


On Tour

by BowleggedNerd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard Dean, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Butt Plugs, Cas is in a band, Closeted Dean, Dean in Panties, Dean-Centric, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, F/M, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Top Dean/Bottom Castiel, Infidelity Outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, Inspired by Music, Jealous Dean, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Law Student Sam, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Musician Castiel, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Pregnant Lisa, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Roadie Dean, Sam Has a Dog, Smoking, Tattooed Castiel, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BowleggedNerd/pseuds/BowleggedNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester were born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean was a womanizing bad boy, but all of that changed when Castiel Novak moved to town. Their relationship blossomed, though it had to be hidden from John's homophobia and the religiously devout Novaks. Naturally, Dean ruined it all, so he and Sam were forced to move away to South Dakota to live with their uncle, leaving Kansas - and Castiel - behind.</p><p>Fast-forward six years, and Bobby's auto shop is closing its doors for good, which left twenty-three year-old Dean without a job. Sure, he could've easily found another mechanic job, but frankly, the other shops around Sioux Falls sucked. Looking for something new, Dean hunted for a new job and found one as a roadie for a rock band called the Seraphs. Dean never heard of them considering he didn't really listen to much of anything past 1989, but he figured it'd be a fun experience and would get him out of South Dakota for a few months. What he wasn't expecting was his girlfriend, Lisa, to be so supportive of his new job prospect, nor did he anticipate to see a familiar face up on stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I've been wanting to write a rockstar fic for-fucking-ever but never got around to it until now. Basically, I was rocking the fuck out to Emarosa one day and the plot just came to me. All of the songs except two (or three) are by Emarosa, and I will post the titles and links of each one in the corresponding chapter. I highly advise listening to them not just to understand the full emotion of the song and why I chose to incorporate it into a chapter, but also because they're a damn good band.
> 
> I hope that y'all enjoy this fic. It's my Big Summer Project (oooh, aaah)! I have a history of starting longer fics and not finishing them or leaving them for months on end, but I don't plan to do that with this one considering I've been wanting to write this kind of plot for years now.
> 
> Dedicated to my wings, Allie. xoxo
> 
> Comments and feedback give me life!
> 
> I love y'all! :-)

_Well, I'm about to spend my cold life cutting corners, placing blame._ _Any moment, this could catch fire, erasing all the stains._ _So, here's to starting over._ _We could be the same._ _We'll change it all together._ _The future's mine to claim..._

\- Emarosa, "A Toast to the Future Kids!"

 

* * *

 

 

"I don't know what to tell ya, son," Bobby said, looking from underneath the tattered blue brim of his ball cap. "We just weren't makin' enough money now since that new, fancy shop opened up on the highway."

Dean nodded in understanding. He knows this isn't Bobby's fault, but it still sucks.

"You'll be alright, kid."

"Not without a job, I won't be." His mind flashed to Lisa and how she's going to react to the news.

"Lisa's doin' alright though, ain't she?" Bobby inquired to which Dean nodded. Surprisingly, Lisa's yoga studio has been booming with business. Who would've thought a place like Sioux Falls would even have a market for such a place? "Well, I'm sure she'll be able to support ya 'til ya get your ass back on the saddle."

Dean's stomach churned at that. If there's one thing he can't stand, it's someone else supporting him.  _He_ is supposed to take care of people, not the other way around. It's always been that way, at least since his mother died when he was four. John, Dean's father, was supposed to be the one to pick up the pieces, but all he picked up was the bottle and has yet to put it down.

Dean didn't even know how John was doing, and he'll swear up-and-down that he doesn't care, but he does. Really, Dean knows that he shouldn't care about John anymore especially after all the shit he put him through growing up, but John's resignation and abandonment happened just after Mary, Sam and Dean's mother, died of breast cancer, and that still hurt something awful within Dean. So since he was a child, Dean had to be the one to look after the family, and more specifically, Sammy. He was the one who tucked his little brother in at night, who fed him, bathed him, clothed him, and everything in between, so it doesn't feel right to let someone else take care of him, even in his time of need.

Dean and Lisa had been dating for six months and just recently moved in together. They split the bills down the middle and each put in their share of household responsibilities, but things are about to change now that Dean is jobless.

"Yeah, I guess she'll have to," Dean said bitterly. He stood from the chair in front of Bobby's cluttered desk that sat in the middle of what used to be the living room of his old house and downed the last bit of whiskey Bobby had given him. "Take care, Bobby."

"I should be sayin' that to you, ya idjit," he smiled. "Now go on, git!"

Dean walked out of the house and to his car. He looked over towards the closed bay doors of the shop with a tightness in his chest. Sitting in the Impala, he let his hands ghost over the dash and the steering wheel as he sighed and talked to her. "Let's go home, Baby."

The drive to his and Lisa's small townhouse took all of ten minutes, but he wished it took longer. Having to admit to his relatively new girlfriend that he just lost his job royally sucked eggs, but he had to tell her and he braced himself for a breakup. He pushed his way inside the front door where he could immediately smell dinner being made. Chili, if he wasn't mistaken.

"Hey, hon!" Lisa called from the kitchen.

The knots in Dean's stomach grew tighter. He took his boots and jacket off before rounding the corner to face the shit storm that lay ahead. Lisa was in her work clothes, which was really just yoga/workout gear. Knowing that those are her work clothes made Dean's nerves even worse for some reason.

"Hey, Lis," he said as he hugged her loosely from behind. "Uh, look... We gotta talk."

"What is it, Dean?" Lisa turned around to look him in the eyes, concern etched over her dark features.

"I, uh-" he stepped away from her and turned around. He ran his hand over his face and looked out the window at nothing in particular as he spoke. "The shop is closed."

"What do you mean?"

Dean sighed and continued. "I mean Bobby had to shut the shop down because he wasn't making any money since that Roman Repairs place opened up on the highway." Dean waited for Lisa to put the pieces together and awaited the inevitable "talk."

"Oh... Oh, Dean!" She said in realization. She turned the heat on the stove down and walked over to Dean, reciprocating his hug from before. "I'm so sorry."

Dean tensed under her caress. "Yeah, your boyfriend's jobless," he chuckled humorlessly. "I don't know how long it'll take for me to get a new job, but I'll start looking tomorrow. I can stay somewhere else for the time being," he said somberly.

"Dean Winchester! Why would you say something like that?!" Lisa said angrily. "It's not your fault this happened, and you can stay here as long as you need to, you know that. This is our place, not just mine."

"I can't pay the bills, Lis. I don't have a degree and all I'm certified to do is work on cars, but all the other shops around here either aren't hiring or couldn't pay me even half of what Bobby did!" He didn't care that he was raising his voice. He was angry at himself for what happened though deep down, he knows it isn't his fault, but that's just how Dean Winchester rolls. "I'm sorry," he said more quietly.

"Dean," Lisa said as she grabbed his face between her small, tanned hands. "Don't be sorry, okay? Shit happens. I'm sure you'll be able to find a job in no time. You're a fast learner and incredibly charming. Anybody who doesn't hire you is an idiot."

"I guess," he breathed and looked into her brown eyes. "I'll start the hunt tomorrow."

"Good," she smiled and gave him a quick peck before returning to the stove.

Lisa talked about her new meditation class that was really taking off as they ate their spaghetti at the kitchen table. Dean nodded and asked the appropriate questions as she spoke even though every part of him wanted her to just shut up about the fact that she  _has_ a job, but he didn't have the energy to protest. They cleaned the kitchen and went to bed early. In attempt to cheer Dean up, Lisa practically pounced on him once they were between the sheets, rolled a condom on him, and rode him to completion. It felt good to release some of the stress, but Dean still had trouble falling asleep.

By the time Dean woke up at nine, Lisa already left for work. Normally, he would already be at work, too, he reminded himself bitterly. After he got up and showered, he went outside to pick up the paper and start his new job search. He searched through the want ads for most of his morning with no luck. He called a few places that looked promising, but found he lacked the credentials for all of them, which only worsened his mood. He was so close to ripping the paper to shreds out of pure frustration, but then his eyes landed on the last ad.

**ROAD CREW STAFF NEEDED**

Dean figured it was a construction job until he read the description.

_Seeking new security/bodyguards for the Seraphs' 2016 Rock 'N' Rage American Tour ASAP. Tour starts the first weekend of April. Must be 21+ and physically fit. Tour lasts 5 months. Pays upwards of $1,000/week._

The Seraphs? Dean never heard of them, but he'd be Justin freakin' Bieber's security/bodyguard for that kind of pay. At least the Seraphs are apparently a rock band. The tour was going to start in four days, so he quickly dialed the number and arranged a Skype interview with the Seraphs' road crew chief of staff for later that night. It'd been a while since Dean went on any road trips, and it would be cool to go on a nationwide tour with a band and listen to (hopefully) good music. He felt confident after making that call because he fit the requirements, and if what Lisa said was true about his ability to learn and his charisma, then he had the job in the bag.

Lisa...

Taking this job meant traveling with a band across the country for five months. He honestly didn't even think about that before calling, so naturally, he felt like shit. What if she doesn't want him to go? That's a lot of easy money to just turn down. It's not that he wants to leave Lisa because he truly does care about her, it's that he wants to make as much money as he can, and this job is right up his alley. He would send Lisa money for bills and other expenses, so she'd be able to keep the house. He would call her every night. Whatever it took. The Skype call wasn't until six and Lisa usually got home around five, so that should be enough time to talk with her about everything and hopefully convince her to let him go forth with the interview.

Dean smiled to himself and decided that being a kiss ass might help win Lisa over, so he spent the rest of the day cleaning the house until it damn near sparkled. He also cooked Lisa's favorite meal and opened a bottle of her favorite wine so it would be ready by the time she got home. He just put the glasses on the table when she came through the door.

"Something smells good!" Lisa yelled from the hallway. She rounded the corner and her jaw about hit the floor when she saw the dinner Dean had prepared. "Dean? W-what is all this?"

Dean handed her a glass of wine and smiled at her. "I think I found a job," he said and took a sip of his own glass.

"Really?! That's amazing, Dean!" She was smiling so hard, he was afraid that her face would split in half. He ushered her over to her seat and pulled it out for her before sitting opposite of her. "What is it?"

"Well," Dean prefaced as he began serving food onto her plate, "it's a road crew job."

"Road crew, like construction?"

"Nah," he chuckled, "I thought the same thing. It's actually a bodyguard job for some rock band called the Seraphs. They're kick-starting their American tour in four days."

"The Seraphs?!" Lisa yelped with so much shock and disbelief, it made Dean jump.

"I'm guessin' they're pretty big then?"

"Dean, the Seraphs are  _gods_. How do you  _not_ know them?"

"If it ain't classic, it ain't real rock," Dean teased.

They dug into their London broil and mashed potatoes before Lisa spoke again.

"Wait, you said they're going on tour? Does that mean you'd have to travel with them the whole time?"

This was the part Dean was nervous about. He set his silverware down and looked across the table at Lisa. "It's a five month-long tour... but it pay's well, Lis! Upwards of a grand a week." After she didn't say anything in response, he continued. "I already called them," he said shamefully. He didn't want her to think he made this decision without her, though he sort of already did. "I have a Skype interview with their chief of staff at six, that is, if it's okay with you..."

"Dean..." Lisa shook her head and his heart sank, but then he noticed her lips curving up into a smile. "Of course it's okay with me! That's good money, and a once-in-a-lifetime thing! My only request is that you get me an autograph."

Dean couldn't believe his ears. He left his food and rose to give Lisa a huge hug and a chaste kiss. "Thank you," he said tenderly.

"You're welcome, hon," she said and looked at the clock above the stove. It was nearing six. "You better go get washed up for your interview."

Dean nodded and quickly ran upstairs to shower. It's not like he really did anything to get him super gross that day, but he got a shower anyway. He decided on wearing a black Led Zeppelin shirt and jeans because he figured it didn't matter about being dressed up for this interview considering the job description, and he secretly hoped his shirt would get him some extra brownie points with his interviewer. He went downstairs to the office and sat in front of the computer, making sure the lighting was decent and that he was online.

At six o'clock on the dot, he got an incoming Skype call from a woman named Pamela Barnes. With butterflies in his stomach, he accepted the call. He was greeted by Pamela, who had curly, dark hair similar to Lisa's and a Ramones shirt.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester!" Pamela waved.

"Hi, Pamela," Dean smiled and waved back.

"Please, call me Pam. I wanted to thank you for calling us. We're so short-handed lately, and you look very promising," she winked. "Nice shirt by the way."

"Thanks," Dean laughed. "I dig yours, too."

"What can I say? Joey Ramone stole my heart. Anyway, I just have a few questions to ask you."

"Fire away."

"Alrighty," Pam said as she looked down at a clipboard. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Where do you live?"

"Sioux Falls, South Dakota."

"Any criminal history?"

"Nope. I mean, I won't if they never find the body."

Pam looked back up to the monitor with a horrified expression, but quickly burst into laughter, Dean joining her. "How much do you weigh?"

"194, I believe."

"How tall?"

"6'1''."

"Nice," Pam whispered to herself as she scribbled the information down on her clipboard. "Any psychical handicaps or medical problems?"

"No to both."

"Super! Would you mind standing up and away from the camera so I can get a good look at you? Don't worry, I'm not coming onto you, I just need to see the real deal and that you're not yankin' my chain on anything."

Dean stood from the desk chair and walked to the middle of the room in the camera's line of sight. He did a twirl and gestured his hands out to the sides. "Did I pass?"

"Just two more questions."

Dean returned to his seat. "Shoot."

"Favorite Ramones song?"

"As lame and cliche as this sounds, 'I Wanna Be Sedated'."

Pam laughed and responded, "No, that's perfectly understandable. Also, how soon can you get out to New Jersey? You got the job!"

"Really?! Thank you so much, Pam. I'll be honest, somethin' about sitting in a metal tube way up in the air rubs me the wrong way, but I'll deal with it. I can get there tomorrow."

"Don't worry, we drive the entire tour, but it starts in Camden, New Jersey in a few days, so we need to get you out here and settled with the rest of the crew so everything runs smoothly. We'll pay for your airfare."

"Sounds good! Thanks again for everything. I really needed this," he smiled with utmost sincerity.

"No, thank  _you_ , Dean. We've been scrambling to replace this other guy who quit, but we could never find anyone we liked, that is, until I interviewed you."

Dean looked down and blushed.

"Alright, give me your number so I can text the flight details to you once I arrange it."

After Dean relayed his digits to Pam, she said her goodbyes. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Dean!"

"I guess so. C'ya, Pam!"

Before either of them ended the call, Dean called out. "Pam, wait!"

"Yeah?"

"I'm just wonderin' how an ad got all the way out here in bum fuck South Dakota? It just seems random, I guess, not that I'm not thankful."

"Beats me, but I'm sure glad you found it!"

Dean nodded. It was weird, but he decided not to question it any further. He was happy about whatever stars aligned to allow this job to fall in his lap. "Me, too. Adios, ma'am."

"Bye!"

Dean exited the Skype call and yelled for Lisa. "Babe, I got it!"

Lisa ran in and gave Dean a hug. "I'm so proud of you! When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

Dean spent most of the night packing. He was surprised that Lisa was completely okay with practically ditching her for five months, but he was grateful nonetheless. Pam texted him the flight information a few hours after the interview. He would be leaving South Dakota at eight in the morning and arriving in New Jersey around one in the afternoon. The only thing he forgot to do was research the Seraphs just so he'd know exactly what he was walking into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks and a shoutout to @fallenatic841 (Twitter) for the beautiful edit! *Dean voice* You're awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

  _Dean didn't know where he was._

_He was outside. There was a little snow on the ground. The strong smell of pine flooded his senses and it was dark, the wind rustling the leaves. He took a few steps forward and noticed a clearing ahead, a road, cast in the blue light of a street post. He stumbled out of the woods and his eyes landed upon the glistening pavement, wet from the salted road. Scanning his head to the right, he saw a sign and a bench beside it with a lone figure sitting directly in the middle with suitcases on either side of them._

_"Hello?" He called out to the slumped over form._

_He walked closer to the bench, feeling his feet press into the thin layer of snow with every step. The closer he got, he noticed the person sitting on the bench was shaking and wearing a large, beige trench coat. Part of Dean knew exactly who that trench coat belonged to, but another part was hoping that it wasn't_ him. _The person had their head tucked into themselves, chin to chest, their body wracking with silent sobs._

 _Dean felt his heart drop to his stomach as he reached out his right hand toward the person's shoulder. He noticed that a thick, silver band was on his ring finger. The sharp pain of guilt and regret flooded through him as he recognized the ring. He knew exactly what was going on, but he couldn't stop it from happening. This was_ the  _night. The night Dean ruined everything._

_Dean's hand made contact, which caused the boy to turn around. Tears streaked down his face and they wouldn't stop falling. His eyes were wide, scared, and devastated. His eyes were familiar. His eyes were blue._

_"You left me here!" The boy shouted. "Why did you leave me here?! I loved you! I loved you..."_

Dean jolted awake, thankful he got out of the dream before it got worse. He looked to his right to find Lisa in deep sleep, and that calmed him down a bit.

Lying back down, Dean's mind was going a mile a minute. He hadn't thought of  _him_ in years; he couldn't even bring himself to say the boy's name in his head. To spare himself from the heartache and lull himself back to sleep, he tried thinking about anything and everything else besides an old trench coat, a pair of bright, blue eyes, and a lonely Kansas road but to no avail. It was four in the morning, but he was wide awake. He slid out of bed and kept himself busy doing stupid shit until it was time to go to the airport.

. . .

Lisa drove them to the airport. Dean's stomach was in knots the entire time because he was about to be fucking flying, something humans should never be able to do, and that nightmare still rattled around in his head. Plus, it sucked that he couldn't bring Baby with him on this tour, but he'd leave her be for a few months if it meant he had a job and good pay. He was so freaked out, he barely thought about the fact that Lisa practically kicked him out of the car. Honestly, he was expecting something more grand, tear-filled, and chick-flicky. He told her that he'd call everyday, but she told him not to worry about it because she knew he'd be busy. Again, surprising, but too insignificant to dwell on after the morning he had and upcoming trauma of being thousands of feet above the ground.

One Xanax and a hell of a lot of Metallica later, Dean was landing in Philadelphia. He barely fought the urge to drop to his knees once he got inside the airport and kiss the floor. The solid, _grounded_  floor.

He retrieved his checked bag and made his way out to the main entrance of the building. A line of people stood just near the door holding signs with names. He scanned the row until his eyes landed upon a shorter, nervous looking man with a sign clutched between his hands that read "D. Winchester."

Dean wheeled his stuff over to the man and gave him a big smile. "Hey, I'm Dean."

"Chuck," the man responded as he reached out a hand to Dean, which he gladly shook. "Are you ready to head back to base camp?"

"Sounds good, man."

They made their way out to the busy parking lot and climbed into a big, black Tahoe. Chuck asked Dean the normal questions like what he did before this job, what it was like back home, the whole nine. Dean answered happily, excited about his new job and the new people he was going to meet since Chuck seemed like a nice enough guy. The ride to Camden, New Jersey from the airport didn't take long at all, but in that short time, Dean learned that Chuck had been an assistant of the Seraphs since their beginning three years ago and he also wrote in his spare time.

Just before they pulled into the BB&T Pavilion, which Chuck explained used to be known as the Susquehanna Bank Center, Dean heard that the radio was on. He reached over and turned it up a little when a gravelly voice suddenly captivated him.

_I feel this night has begun,_

_This fight isn't won,_

_Don't get me wrong._

_Is there anyone who can make me see?_

_Help me breathe?_

_Is there anyone who can make me feel alive inside?_

_Sink or swim is all I know tonight,_

_Well, take me to the bed, it feels so right._

_Wake me up._

The guy had an interesting voice. Hypnotizing, almost.

_You honestly believe,_

_You meant something to me?_

_I thought you knew the game,_

_Collect your shit, deal with the shame._

_No tears to make it stop,_

_The rain goes right on top._

_The wet would hear you drown,_

_And think about how I did you wrong,_

_How I did you wrong..._

It wasn't classic, but it was rock, and Dean honestly liked it. The lyrics were powerful and he felt like the guy was singing directly to him, which rarely happened with any band with the exceptions of Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, and Bob Seger.

Chuck looked over at him with a small smirk on his face before he reached over and turned the stereo up even more. "This is my favorite album of theirs. They normally don't play this one though, but I guess we'll see in a few days."

Dazed at the realization that this was the Seraphs, Dean could do nothing but nod his head and keep listening.

_Take me to the bed._

_Because it feels so right,_

_Feels so right._

_Take me to the bed tonight,_

_Tonight._

The melody softened before picking back up.

_Now we move,_

_So much faster than before._

_Straight to my room,_

_And baby you knock down the door._

_But I'm still waking up,_

_In these self inviting auras._

_These self inviting auras._

_Made me bring out the sun._

_Your body's played its role,_

_It's ruined my game._

_And now I can't believe,_

_I've done it._

_But somehow I still feel,_

_But I still feel,_

_So far gone..._

The song ended as Chuck pulled the car around to the back of the pavilion. Dean could see people everywhere and trailers and buses of all shapes and sizes. Everyone was setting everything up for the upcoming show like a bunch of worker bees. Dean smiled at the hustle and bustle of it, eager to get his hands dirty, maybe not in motor oil and grease, but with some kind of work. Plus, it's nice that he actually seems to like the band he'll be a security guard for because it would blow to have to travel with a band he hated for five months and hear the same songs over and over again.

Chuck ushered Dean to enter the small, white trailer he parked in front of. "Pam should be in there. She'll get you all squared away," he said as he looked down at his phone. "I gotta run, they need me. Good luck, Dean!"

"Thanks!" He waved and watched Chuck run back to the car and speed off. He knocked on the trailer door and heard someone yell for him to come in. It was a small space, but cozy. He could definitely tell it was Pam's trailer if the hoard of Ramone memorabilia was anything to go by.

"Dean!" Pam said as she walked out of what was probably her bedroom. She met Dean in three long strides and gave him a fierce hug. Before she pulled away, she smacked his ass and let out a throaty chuckle at his surprised yelp. "I'm so glad you could make it here so quickly. We've been running around here like chickens with our heads cut off trying to get everything right for the show."

"Nice to meet you, too, Pam," Dean smiled. "I'm glad I could be of service."

"Come, sit," Pam gestured toward her small kitchen table. She had been expecting Dean, so she already had the contract out and ready so they could breeze through everything as quickly as possible. "Alright, let's talk business."

"I'm all ears, ma'am."

"I know you originally signed up for this job under the impression that you would be a bodyguard and that's exactly the case, but you must know that your responsibilities will far surpass standing in the pit and keeping fans away from the stage." Dean nodded and Pam continued. "You will be a direct bodyguard for the band while they are off and on stage. I realize that this is a heftier job than you probably anticipated, but the band's last guard quit without notice not too long ago, and they really need a new one for this tour."

"I understand."

"Good," Pam smiled. "So, because you won't just be managing pit and stage, you'll be receiving more pay." Dean took a swig of the water Pam had set on the table for him as she spoke. "Two grand more, to be exact."

Dean sputtered and choked around his water. "What?!"

"Three grand a week for five months, Dean. Is that okay with you?"

"Pam, I could fucking kiss you right now. Of course that's okay with me!"

"Great! I'm glad to hear it. I really think you'll all get along just fine."

"Who, me and the band? I sure hope so."

"You'll get to meet them after they do a sound check and all that jazz tomorrow afternoon." Pam pointed down at the contract before speaking again. "Now, let's go over this thing."

They spent half an hour going through everything in the contract, especially the confidentiality agreement. The Seraphs didn't like to involve themselves in media fiascoes, so everything had to remain behind locked lips despite reporters, as Pam said, who would try and coax him into spilling personal information about the members. Dean didn't think he'd have a problem with any of that. He was a loyal friend and an even more loyal employee. He and Pam also talked about the possibility of extending his contract beyond the tour if he wished. After the five months are up, he and Pam would sit back down together and discuss a new contract that would make him the band's permanent bodyguard. It was an attractive offer that he would keep in the back of his mind.

Dean signed and initialed everything Pam told him to, and he was ecstatic about starting, especially now that he knows he'll be getting paid three times as much as he thought he would.

"And that'll do it," Pam said as she watched Dean scribble his name on the last line of the last page of the contract. "Welcome to the family!"

"Thanks, Pam. This really means a lot to me."

"Oh, stop. Don't be getting all sentimental and shit on me now. We got work to do!" She stood quickly and motioned for Dean to follow her. He reached for his luggage, which she immediately stopped him. "Don't bother with that stuff. You can stay in my trailer tonight since you'll be here late learning the ropes anyway. We'll get you booked in the band's hotel tomorrow."

"You got it, boss," he fake saluted her and followed her out empty-handed.

"I'll show you around first and then introduce you to Benny and the rest of the security gang."

"Aye, aye, cap'n."

People with headsets and yellow staff shirts were running all over the place, it almost made Dean dizzy. Some were talking, some were yelling, and others were carrying things to the stage. It was madness, but it was order at the same time. Pam pointed here and there and gave a brief description of each thing, person, and place, she brought to his attention.

So far, Dean gathered that the big, empty space they were walking on was where the band members' buses parked; the bubbly redhead dressed in a Minecraft shirt he saw was named Charlie Bradbury and was the head of the pyrotechnics crew; Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore, who were standing next to a weird Airstream trailer, were in charge of filming everything; and a scrawny dude named Garth Fitzgerald was the head of the equipment team, which included instruments. It was a lot to take in, but it was really cool to see the behind-the-scenes of what went into a rock concert and the faces behind the magic.

"And finally, we have Mr. Lafitte and the other knuckleheads," Pam smiled as she gave the burly man a hug.

"Knuckleheads? Why, I'd never!" The man said in a thick southern accent and a chuckle.

"Benny, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, Benny," Pam gestured between them before directing her attention back to Benny. "He'll be a new addition to the squad and the new bodyguard for the band."

"Nice to meet ya, brotha," Benny said as he shook Dean's hand. "I'll getcha all trained up in no time."

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it," Dean smiled.

"Teach and treat your grasshopper well. I'll see you around," Pam said and turned her head to Dean. "And I'll see you tonight," she winked before strutting away, making Dean swallow nervously.

Benny's laugh broke him from his shock. "Don't worry, she's harmless."

"I'm not so sure about that," Dean chortled.

Benny got Dean started right away in his training, and the other security guys (Gordon, Walt, Roy, Jake, and Cole) joined in to help. Dean learned about how he must maintain his composure, especially around the press, regardless of what is said either to him or the band, but he must remain vigilant and keep his eyes and ears open for any potential physical threats. He learned about where he should stand and what he should do while the band is on stage, off stage, and how to position his body during an escort.

After that, they stopped to grab a bite to eat, but then came the harder stuff. Benny worked with Dean one-on-one with physical combat. Dean hadn't gotten in a fight since high school, so he was a bit rusty. Benny taught him how to anticipate an attacker's move and how to simultaneously remain consciously aware of where the person or people were that he would be protecting. He also learned pressure points and how to disarm someone with a weapon, though that is highly unlikely, Benny explained.

Benny warned Dean that fans could get awfully touchy when trying to get between him and a band member or members, but he shouldn't do anything about those kinds of instances unless he feels imminently threatened, for any distraction that does not appear to be endangering could compromise the protection of those in his charge.

To cool down from all the physical stuff, Benny then went over the radios and how they worked, the code words they use for different levels of threats, and how to wear one. They all traded phone numbers, too, just in case anything happened and they needed to reach each other.

By the time they were finished going through everything, it was almost midnight. Dean was exhausted from everything that happened from the nightmare, to the flight, and his crash course in all things bodyguard. Benny explained to Dean that he was staying at the hotel with the band for the night and the rest of the crew always stayed at the venue in their respected trailers, but tomorrow, Dean would be the one in the hotel and Benny would be at the pavilion.

As Benny said bye to everyone, he walked Dean back to Pam's trailer. "You'll fit right in 'round here, brotha."

"You think so?"

"O'Course! I ain't never seen the guys take too kindly to fresh meat 'til you," the southern man said as he bumped Dean with his elbow.

"Well, I'm glad. Y'all seem like a good group. I'm excited," he admitted.

"Yeah, it's pretty great, and you'll love the band, too. Good music, good people."

"That's what Pam said to me earlier," he looked around before continuing. "Hey, uh, I don't really know the band like that. They aren't really my style, but I heard a song by them today and it wasn't half bad."

Benny laughed at his honesty. "Don't feel bad about not knowin' who they are. I didn't either when I first started. They grow on ya though," he said with a fondness in his voice.

"So, why aren't you going to be their main bodyguard?" Dean inquired.

"I've done it before, but it's not that they're a pain or nothin', I'd just rather be out on the front lines with my men, ya know?"

"Yeah, I gotcha."

"Well," Benny said with a big smile, "today was good, an' I'll see ya t'morrow!"

"C'ya, man."

Dean entered Pam's trailer and saw that she made up the couch for him. She must already be asleep; her bedroom door was closed and all the lights were off. He noticed a note on the kitchen table that read:

_Dean,_

_I hope you had a good day! I know it's a lot, but I believe in you! I'll probably be gone before you get up so I can get everything ready for the sound check tomorrow. Sleep well! ~~And I don't mind if you sleep naked... wink, wink.~~_

_P.S. The couch is comfortable, I promise!_

_Take it easy,_

_Pam_

Dean smiled at the note before folding it and putting it in his wallet as a keepsake. He stripped out of his clothes, leaving just his boxer-briefs. He crawled onto the couch happily and Pam was right, it really was comfortable. Before he fell asleep, he texted Lisa and told her that he was safe and briefly explained the pay raise. The last thing on his mind as his eyes slipped closed was the soothing voice of the Seraphs' front man.

. . .

Dean woke to the sound of Kansas blasting through the speakers of his phone. He set his alarm for 8:00 am before falling asleep last night. Luckily, he had a dreamless sleep; the nightmare from the night prior still echoed in the back of his mind.

Bright sunlight filtered in through the blinds of Pam’s trailer and cascaded down unto his blanketed form. He sat up and swung his legs over the couch, rubbing a hand over his face and through his bedhead. He checked his phone and was surprised that Lisa didn’t text him back considering he knew that she was awake at this time, regardless of the hour time difference, but he decided not to dwell on that for too long. As Pam’s note promised, she wasn’t in the trailer, so he got up and hopped in the shower. The hot water relaxed his sore muscles that got a serious workout while training with Benny and the gang the day before. After dressing in his casual band tee and jeans, he decided to call Sam and tell him about his new job.

Sam had moved out to California after graduating high school. Dean was incredibly proud of his nerdy, not-so-little brother; he received a full-ride to Stanford's pre-law program and met his girlfriend, Jessica, his first semester. Now in his, second year Sam and Jess moved off campus into a nearby apartment. The last time Dean talked to him, he announced that they got a dog. Sam was on his way to living the American Dream, and that's all Dean ever hoped for his little brother, especially after the shit they went through under John Winchester's roof.

After the third ring, Dean didn't think Sam was going to answer, but then he was greeted by a sleepy voice. "Hello?"

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

"Ugh, Dean," Sam grumbled. "It's like five in the morning. Why are you calling so early? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's great!" Dean exclaimed. "Calm down, Samsquatch. Besides, I thought you were always up at this ungodly hour with all your health nut crap."

"Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean scoffed. "I just wanted to call and tell ya something."

"Yeah?"

"Well, Bobby's shop shut down, so I'm not workin' there anymore."

"Seriously? I'm sorry, Dean." Sam apologized, and he sounded more awake. "Wait, so what are you doing now? I remember you telling me all of the other shops around there 'weren't worth a damn'."

"Well, that's what I called to tell you about." Dean let his eyes rove over Pam's trailer, a slow smile creeping up on his lips. Technically, he's only worked one day, but things were looking great and he couldn't deny his own excitement. "I found this ad in the newspaper about this band that needed a bodyguard, so I called, had an interview, and here I am. The American leg of the tour is about to kick-off, so I flew out here to New Jersey and I've been learnin' the ropes. And listen to this, they're paying me $3,000 a week to run with them for five months, and if I like it enough after the tour is over, I can stay!"

"Wait, did you say that you _flew?_ " Sam laughed. "I bet _that_ was a sight to see."

"Shuddup," Dean chided.

"Seriously though, that's amazing, Dean! I'm honestly surprised you're not doing something car-related, but that's cool, too." Dean could hear the smile on Sam's lips. "I'm guessing Lisa is okay with you being gone for that long?"

"Yeah, she's all for it."

"That's good. So, what band are you working for? They must be pretty big if they're paying you that kind of money."

"I've never heard of 'em, but when I told Lisa, she flipped, so I guess they're popular enough. They're called the Seraphs."

Sam was quiet for a moment before he responded, and his tone hardened. "Did you say the Seraphs?"

"Yeah, why? What's wrong?"

"Dean..." Sam sighed. "Did you seriously not do your research before deciding to take the job?"

"Obviously not. Just spit it out, man," Dean said impatiently.

"The lead singer is-"

Before Sam finished, Dean heard a knock at the door and pulled the phone away from his ear. "Yeah?" He yelled to whoever was on the other side.

"The boys and I are grabbin' some breakfast." Dean could tell that was Benny from his southern drawl. "You comin'?"

"Yeah! I'll be right out." Dean brought the phone back up to his ear. "Hey, I gotta go. Look, even if the lead singer's an asshole or whatever, I'll be fine. It's good money."

"But Dean-"

"I'll call you later." Dean stood up as he spoke, making his way to the door. "Tell Jess I said hey and give the mutt some love. C'ya, Sammy." He hung up before Sam had the chance to respond. It was a little weird how serious Sam had sounded. He assumed there was probably some bad press out there about the band, or that the lead singer was a diva or something. Whatever it was, Dean knew he could handle it. He emerged from the trailer and looked around. There were already more people there than yesterday, running around and barking orders into headsets to get everything ready for the upcoming show. His eyes then landed on Benny who was leaning against the side of the trailer.

“How’d ya sleep, princess?” Benny teased as they started walking towards the food station where Gordon, Walt, Roy, Jake, and Cole were already gathered around.

“Like a baby,” Dean smiled.

The rest of the guys greeted him with friendly faces. They stood in line to get their breakfast, and the guys joked with Dean about Pam and her coquettishness. They all sat down together at one of the collapsible picnic tables and dug into their eggs and bacon.

“So, what’s the game plan for today?” Dean asked Benny between bites of his breakfast.

“We’re gonna train up a bit more, and get our stage positions all sorted out, and you’re gonna meet the band later, Chief,” Benny said around a mouthful of toast. “They should be comin’ in ‘round one or so for their sound check.”

“Pam said I’ll meet them after that. How long does it usually take?”

“Looks like they got themselves a new fan boy,” Gordon joked. The rest of the guys laughed and Dean ducked his head and blushed.

“I’d say an hour, two at the most,” Cole said as he reached across the table for the salt.

“What’s the sound check even for?” Dean questioned.

“They basically just run through some of their set. Make sure the amps and mics and shit are all workin’ right,” Benny answered. “And Charlie’ll be testin’ some of the more difficult pyrotechnic shit. Girl’s a wizard, I swear.”

“Gotcha,” Dean stated. “I’m looking forward to it.”

They all got up and threw their plates away and went back to the training area. They all ran through the basic maneuvers and key points of defense and security, giving special attention to Dean to make sure his crash course from yesterday stuck. Even though he knew he was working, Dean was having a lot of fun. The guys were really cool and easy to get along with, and so were everyone else he met. It was comforting to know that during this tour, he’d be surrounded by people he actually liked.

After they all ate lunch, it was almost one, so Benny took them all out to the stage. Naturally, they entered through the back, and Dean felt downright giddy. He’d never been behind any kind of stage; it was cool to see how everything looked behind the curtains, pun intended.

When they reached the stage, Dean was honestly a little overwhelmed by how huge the place was. Being a pavilion, hundreds of seats sat underneath a protected, high roof, but past the protection of the awning, Dean could see the lawn where people could also sit. It was mind boggling to him that this place was going to be sold out and flooded with fans.

Dean asked Walt who the opening bands were, but Walt informed him that the Seraphs were so big and had such a cult following, they didn't  even need openers. Dean honestly felt a little out of the loop when Walt told him that, considering he hadn’t even heard of the band until a few days ago and only listened to half of one of their songs. Despite that, he was pretty impressed and it felt like an honor to have the job, and he couldn’t wait to meet the band now. Everyone said the Seraphs were all pretty cool, too.

“Hey, Charlie!” Benny yelled and waved from the stage out to the center of the audience seating where the light, sound, and pyrotechnic crew sat on a platform. Dean saw the redhead he walked by yesterday throw up the Vulcan salute and respond with a “yo!” Dean was excited to officially meet her, too, because anyone who casually drops Star Trek references was a friend of his.

As Benny was directing everyone where they’d be standing, Dean noticed Garth directing people where to put the mics, guitars, and all the other instruments. Dean didn’t expect a Steinway to be wheeled out onto the stage, but there it was. The Seraphs became increasingly cooler the more Dean could piece together about their musicianship.

After Dean got the guys situated around the base of the stage, he walked over to Dean. “Alright, brotha,” he said as he clasped Dean on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be securing the sidestage.” They walked back toward the left side near the curtain. “Sometimes VIP fans stand over here behind a gate, so this is where you’ll be.”

Dean gulped. Although he was sure that he could do this job, it was still a lot of responsibility. Benny and the rest of the guys would be securing the stage from the pit. While that, too, carried a lot of duty, fans who attempt to get near the band down there would have to climb up the tall stage, but where Dean was positioned, the only thing separating a crazed fan from the band would be a small, metal gate and himself. He would have to be on high alert.

“Got it, man.” Dean swallowed down his nervousness. The band was about to show up and he was their new main bodyguard. Hopefully, they will like him and vice versa.

Benny and Dean turned their heads to the very back of the stage. They heard the sound of buses approaching. “That must be them!” Benny exclaimed and handed Dean his radio, which he quickly put on. “We’ll all be at our posts just to get a feel for it, and I’ll introduce ya to ‘em after the sound check’s over.”

“Thanks, Benny.” Dean waved him off and watched him drop off the stage to his post at its head.

The lights over the stage changed from blue to white. Dean stood somewhat awkwardly next to the gate he’d be manning. Even though he wasn’t really a fan yet, he was a little antsy to finally see the Seraphs and see them perform, even if it was only for a sound check. He didn’t even know any of their names or how many there were. There were four mics onstage and a drum set, so he assumed five at the minimum.

Chuck emerged out onto the stage from the opposite side Dean was standing. He had a clipboard and approached Garth, who then cleared his crew from the stage. Chuck looked around and made it over to Dean.

“Hey, Dean. How’d yesterday go?”

“Pretty well. The guys are awesome.” Dean talking to Chuck eased his nerves a bit. Talking to the flighty guy ebbed his anticipation.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” Chuck smiled and looked over his shoulder to where he came from before turning back to Dean. “They should be on their way up here now. After you meet them, I’ll take you back to the hotel and get you set up in your room.”

“I hope there’ll be mints on my pillow,” Dean laughed.

“Do you want some? I can make sure th—”

“Nah, Chuck, I’m kidding.” Chuck smiled and patted Dean on his arm, and then walked past him to go to his next stop.

Dean’s smile faded with Chuck’s footsteps and the anxiousness set back in. He was about to be less than fifty yards away from apparently one of the biggest, hottest rock bands of the day. He intently watched where Chuck came from and saw four people walk out into the clearing. The first was a short, burly-looking man with facial hair and sleeves of blue and orange tattoos, a pair of drumsticks in his hand. After him was a tall, tattooed and handsome blond tuning his gray bass as he walked. Following him was about the drummer’s height with long, brown hair that curled behind his ears, colorful half-sleeves and a Fender Jaguar in tow. Another guitarist, who honestly looked out of place with his short, sandy-colored hair and unmarked skin, followed the first. But the last man held nothing but Dean’s full-blown attention.

Dean froze. The man walking out to center stage—the lead singer with the captivating voice Dean heard in the car with Chuck—had dark, raven hair that looked reminiscently debauched. He wore a plain white t-shirt that contrasted against his tan, black-inked arms, a pair of downright sinful acid-washed skinny jeans, and checkered vans.

It wasn’t just the attractiveness of this man that threw Dean off, it was the fact that he knew exactly who he was. He knew how that hair felt running between his fingers; how his nose would scrunch up when he would smile; how his eyes gave away every emotion… the brilliant blue of them. He knew how it felt to break that man’s heart.

“ _Cas_ …” The name escaped in a whisper from Dean’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Game Played Right" - Emarosa https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNu5PPn0w-Q
> 
> Also, I know that three grand a week may seem a bit over-the-top for Dean's new job, but I figured it's reasonable considering the Seraphs are so huge and he's their personal bodyguard.
> 
> I hope y'all are liking it so far! It's a bit of a slow build, but there is angst on the horizon!
> 
> Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Dean’s heart beat erratically in his chest and he felt like time had stopped until he heard Gordon’s voice tease him over the radio.

“You okay there, fanboy?”

After a moment, Dean pressed his ear piece and responded. “Y-Yeah, I’m good,” he lied.

Thankfully, Dean’s post was hidden within the shadows, Castiel didn’t see him yet, and no one else could see him freaking out. Still, he knew that “meeting” the rock star was inevitable because he’s now the man’s personal bodyguard.

“ _I loved you! I loved you_...” Dean could hear the words from his nightmare ringing in his ears. He hadn’t seen Castiel in six years, and the last time he did, he lied straight to his face. Ever since then, Dean tried his hardest to forget about Kansas and the boy he destroyed. He thought he was doing pretty well considering he was now dating Lisa, the first person since Castiel, but the universe wouldn’t have it. This bodyguard gig seemed like a blessing, but it was clearly karma. It was punishment for what Dean had done all those years ago.

The amplified sound of the brown-haired guitarist strumming out a few chords broke Dean from his trance. He looked up, unable to take his eyes off Castiel. Every move the singer made felt familiar to Dean, and after all the years of trying to bury his mistake, after all the progress he thought he’d made, Dean recognized that all of it had just shattered to the ground, lying in shards at his feet.

“Check, check, check,” Castiel spoke into the microphone. The rumble of his voice echoed through the speakers and out into the pavilion, sending a shiver down Dean’s spine.

“Good!” Charlie yelled from the platform.

Castiel threw her a thumbs-up before turning to each of his bandmates and nodding his head. The drummer then counted off four taps before the band erupted into an intense rhythm that honestly made Dean jump. On the downbeat, the lights on the stage turned into hues of green that changed in sync with the beat, but a white spotlight shone on Castiel, setting him apart from the color. Each of the band members were moving their heads to the beat, and Dean noticed Castiel bouncing on his feet slightly while draping one hand over the mic. Just before he started to sing, he took the instrument in both hands and stood closer to the stand with his eyes closed.

_I wanted to believe_

_That I could be anyone,_

_What I’m hoping when I’m not alone._

_And obviously, there’s no danger in having hope,_

_Having hope in anyone but me._

_On a better day, I would be way more awake._

_Falling off, losing faith._

_If it’s all the same, I will just take my things anyway._

Dean’s mouth felt dry. Not only just to hear Castiel’s voice, but to feel it blast out of the speakers into his chest, completely surrounding him, felt surreal.

_If this is love, if this is love,_

_Then I would run far,_

_Run fast from me._

_Forgive me if I leave the keys._

Castiel wailed improvisational sounds into the microphone as the band continued its rigorous pace, but then the tempo slowed down. The other instruments cut out, leaving only the guitar, which played light, clear chords as he sang the next phrase.

_I knew I would let you down._

_I’ll betray your confidence._

_How much do you trust me now?_

_No._

Dean felt like this song portrayed exactly how he felt not just in that moment, but even back then six years ago. He let Castiel down. He betrayed his confidence. Castiel’s voice was laced with such raw emotion, Dean could do nothing but stand there and let it wash over him; all the guilt, regret, and pain. Still, he couldn’t deny that he actually did enjoy the music. The tempo then picked back up.

_Well, everyone else here sees_

_Your eyes, they can’t perceive me._

_And I hate the sound of your voice,_

_‘Cause it still haunts me like a ghost._

_But I know that I’m to blame,_

_‘Cause I’ve never been anyone else._

_But I’m not numb ‘cause I’m like your way,_

_‘Cause I know I’ll never change._

Dean recognized the chorus come back around alongside the ache in his heart. While it played, he noticed that he had been digging his nails so hard into his palm that they left tiny, crescent-shaped imprints there. To stop, he wrung his fingers around his right ring finger that seemed to carry a phantom weight.

_I never said I was an angel._

_There’s a simple explanation for it all._

_It’s all my fault._

At that Dean’s eyes pricked a bit with tears, but he didn’t allow them to fall.

_The snow melts away,_

_And I’m close to the ending now._

_I don’t want to be saved._

The song finished out with the chorus and the notes hung in the air. Dean felt numb and his mind wandered back to Lawrence, Kansas.

. . .

_**Seven Years Ago** _

 

English had to be the worst subject in the entire world, or at least that's what Dean thought. Not that he particularly  _liked_ school, but if he had to choose a subject to suffer through, it would be math simply because there was only one answer, much like there was only one solution to remedy a car problem.

Dean worked part-time at Rufus's garage after school since he was fifteen and fell in love with it instantly. Before Mary died, he remembered being a small child and John pointing out different parts of the Impala's engine. It was one of the only good memories he had about his father, so maybe that was why he clung to mechanics so hard.

So, when it came to things like English where there are often  _multiple_ answers and ambiguities waiting to be interpreted and defined, Dean hated it... until the end of his junior year.

Everyone in town heard about the new preacher from Boston, Zachariah Novak. Devout was an understatement, and his credentials probably could've intimidated God Himself, so the fact that he and his family decided to move to Lawrence and become the new head of the biggest Methodist church in town, word got around pretty quickly. Dean heard about the news and knew Zachariah and Naomi Novak had a teenage son, but that was about all he knew until Mr. Thompson, his American literature teacher, introduced Castiel to the class.

Dean didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't the wild-haired, fucking  _gorgeous_ boy standing before him. Before laying his eyes on the disheveled handsomeness that was Castiel Novak, Dean would've never considered another guy attractive, let alone gorgeous, maybe with the exceptions of Clint Eastwood, Harrison Ford, and Dr. Sexy... but no one knew that. Plus, those guys were famous and much older, but this guy, this _Castiel_ , was  _real_.

Dean had never had such a visceral reaction to a boy in real life, and it was scary and exciting at the same damn time. Not only was Novak insanely hot in a sexy librarian sort of way, he was also a preacher's son, which did nothing to calm the fantasies that flashed through Dean's head. Naturally, as fate would have it, Castiel ended up taking the empty seat next to Dean.

"Hello," the boy said in a surprisingly deep voice. Right then and there, Dean knew he was a fucking goner.

"H-hi," Dean stuttered.

Dean was the ultimate ladies' man at Lawrence High, and he wasn't even a jock. His brown leather jacket that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke was the embodiment of his bad boy image that the girls practically fell over themselves for. Dean had plenty of flings with all kinds of girls from different cliques; after all, true sex appeal was universal and not defined by or limited to one stereotype, and  _everyone_ loves a bad boy, but a bad boy often loves hardly anyone at all.

Dean had never been in an actual relationship, just one-night stands here and there. It didn't bother him in the slightest considering he was always pretty busy after school with work and taking care of Sammy. He'd been propositioned plenty of times by just about every girl he slept with, but always let them down easily, only to never talk to them again. Perhaps that made him an asshole, but there was no point in developing attachments in any sense of the word when you lived a life like Dean's, full of duty and responsibility. That being said, he didn't really have any friends either. A lot of the guys hated him for obvious reasons, and some revered him for them. So, despite all the warm bodies he'd lay with, he was essentially alone, just the way he liked it.

But everything changed when he met Castiel Novak in the middle of his junior year.

Castiel was Dean's antithesis. He was a nerdy, socially-awkward virgin who dressed in Oxford button-downs and slacks everyday whereas Dean was the academically apathetic, sexually active guy with a give 'em hell attitude and blue collar wardrobe to match. It didn't seem logical for Dean to be so attracted to the preacher's son, but there he was, pining away for the remainder of his junior year.

Castiel got English. In fact, English was his best subject. Then again,  _everything_ was his best subject. So, as the year dragged on, Dean and Castiel became closer. Dean tried to rationalize his draw to Castiel as a way to pass his class, but he was only kidding himself. He stopped sleeping around under the false reasoning that he wanted to focus on his schoolwork, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn't get those damn blue eyes out of his head or that gummy smile.

Over the course of the semester, Dean learned a lot about Castiel and vice-versa. Dean had never had the desire to become close to anyone, to open up about his home life, until Castiel because he knew Castiel would never judge him or look down on him for the drastic differences between their houses. Although, not everything in the Novak home was as right as rain.

The more they talked and the closer they became, Castiel confided in Dean that he was gay and that it caused a lot of tension between him and his parents. Sometimes, Zachariah and Naomi would send him to bed without dinner or force him to read and copy Bible verses that condemned sodomy in attempt to "teach him a lesson" and "change his blasphemous ways." In all honesty, it broke Dean's heart.

"Dean," Castiel said one night as the two boys were studying for the English final. It was barely above a whisper, nervousness apparent in his voice. They were sitting side-by-side on the floor of Dean's bedroom and leaning against his bed.

"What's up, Cas?" Dean looked away from his notes and turned his head to look at the other boy.

"I-I need to tell you something."

Dean set his notebook aside and moved his entire body to face Castiel. "Yeah? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I-" Castiel set his things aside, too, with an exasperated sigh and furrowed brow. He knew Dean was looking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look into his green eyes, so he kept his gaze firmly in place on his hands that rested in his lap. "I can't find the words to express how grateful I am to be able to call you my friend."

Dean was confused as to what was going on and why Castiel sounded so sad. "Of course, Cas. Right back at ya. There's no way in hell I would've been able to stay afloat in English without you. Plus, you're pretty cool, too... for a nerd," he joked and playfully nudged his friend. Castiel smiled a bit at his words, which he noticed. "There it is." Castiel blushed. "I see that smile."

"This isn't funny, Dean. I really do have something I need to tell you, and I don't know how you're going to take it. I-I'm terrified, actually."

A lump formed in Dean's throat. He was afraid Castiel didn't want to be his friend anymore either because of his parents or because he picked up on Dean's not-so-subtle flirtations and wasn't into him. "You're scarin' me." Castiel nodded but didn't say anything for a few moments, which made Dean's nerves even worse. "Spit it out, man."

"I like you," Castiel blurted out. Dean almost didn't catch it, he spoke so fast.

"W-what?"

Castiel sighed and finally looked over at Dean, fear and honesty swimming in his big, blue eyes. "I like you, Dean."

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Castiel Novak, boy genius with the kindest heart and purest soul, liked him. Sure, he knew that Castiel was gay, but this had to be a mistake. He probably just meant he liked Dean as a friend. "I like you, too, Cas. You're my best friend."

"No, Dean," Castiel shook his head. "I  _like_ you. I have since the first time I saw you, actually, and I'm just sorry."

"W-why are you sorry?"

"Because I shouldn't!" Castiel raised his voice and looked back at Dean. "Because you're straight, you assbutt!"

Dean was speechless. A thousand things were running through his head at the revelation:  _Castiel likes me. I like him..._ _but he's a dude! I've never liked a dude. I've never liked anyone. Not really, not like this. Am I gay? No, I still like girls. Bisexual? Yeah, that sounds right. Fuck, what do I do?_ Dean's stream of consciousness was broken as Castiel made a move to get up and away, as he was afraid he just ruined his one and only friendship.

Without even thinking, Dean reached both his hands up to Castiel's face in one swift motion and turned the boy's head to face his. He crashed their lips together. It took Castiel a moment to recover from the shock and respond, but when he did, it felt just like every chick-flick said it would: fireworks. Not that Dean watched those kinds of movies... okay, maybe once in a while he did. Castiel's lips were slightly chapped but surprisingly soft. Dean moved his hands back, twining them through Castiel's hair, which made him whimper at the sensation. He'd wanted to do that since he first laid eyes on the preacher's son a few months prior. Dean broke the kiss only to start a new, hungrier one.

Before anything could continue, Castiel pressed his hand to Dean's chest and gently pushed him away. Their faces were inches apart, and their lips glistened with shared saliva. Both boys remained silent for a moment; the only sound between them was their heavy breathing.

"Did... did you call me an 'assbutt'?" Dean chuckled softly.

Castiel nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up," he smiled before closing the gap and bringing their mouths back together.

. . .

 "Everything sounds and looks good, guys!" Dean heard Charlie yell from the platform.

He was so caught up within his memories that he completely zoned out. When he refocused, he saw Castiel give a thumbs-up to Charlie before turning around and speaking with the rest of the band, who were gathered around the drumset and talking. He looked to the front of the stage when he saw Benny hop up onto it from his position. He felt like he was going to throw up. He wanted to run, but his feet seemed nailed to the floor. Benny was about to introduce him to the band. All the excitement he had over meeting these rockstars had crumbled to the ground once he laid eyes on who was just a painful memory a half-hour ago.

"So, what d'ya think, brotha?" Benny ran over to him and asked with a dopey grin on his face.

"'S great," Dean mumbled.

Benny's smile faded and was replaced with concern. "You alright? Look like you seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Dean lied, and Benny looked at him skeptically.

"Okay, well," he said as he grabbed Dean's elbow and started walking him over to the band. "Let's go meet 'em!"

Dean didn't resist. He knew this was inevitable. He was Castiel's bodyguard, for Christ's sake! He counted all the steps he took, and with each one, he tried to muster up some semblance of courage. The only way he knew how to do that was to put on the cocky mask he perfected back in high school. He wouldn't let this be awkward, or at least he wouldn't let it show. He had a job to do and he was going to do it, even if it meant shoving down all of the emotional baggage it carried and would add to.

By the time Dean and Benny reached the group, he felt a bit more confident than he did before. He reasoned that at least he had time to adjust to this twist of events whereas Castiel would have absolutely none. Somehow that made him feel better, but the hammering of his heart told a different story than the cocky demeanor he tried his best to assume. They were standing behind Castiel, who was a bit sweaty from the rehersal, which Dean definitely tried not to think about. Even from the back, Dean could see that the tattoos that sleeved Castiel's arms were themed; the right was of angels and holy iconography, and the left had images of demons and all things brimstone and fire in contrast.

"Heya, Castiel," Benny said. Castiel turned around and had a smile on his face,  _a dazzling, beautiful smile_ , Dean cursed to himself.

"Hey, Benny," the singer's deep voice rumbled. "How are-" the words died on his tongue as he glanced to Benny's side and blue eyes met green. Those vibrant cerulean orbs captivated Dean, just as they had all those years ago in his junior year English class. Castiel's lips formed a tight line and he clenched his jaw, but despite the look of the controlled anger written all over his face, his eyes gave away the bit of pain he felt. Dean fought his hardest to keep up his shit-eating grin and not give in to his own feelings.

"Castiel, Dean. Dean, Castiel," Benny, who was obviously oblivious to the tension between the two men, gestured. "Meet your new bodyguard!"

If Dean was going to commit to this job, then he knew he had to commit to this cocky, never-give-an-inch facade, so he offered a hand out to Castiel to shake. After a few moments, Castiel reached down and took Dean's hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze. Dean felt a jolt of electricity from the contact, but never tore his eyes away from the man's. He couldn't have even if he tried.

"Hello, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Weight of Love Blinds Eyes" - Emarosa https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXvF8qFjSH4
> 
> I chose this song because it's like Cas wrote the song from Dean's point-of-view about their past, as if it were his way of coping by trying to understand why Dean left.
> 
> Their tense reunion is next!
> 
> Love y'all! :-)


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, man," Dean replied to Castiel's greeting. "It's nice to meet you."

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a dick move, but 1) Dean had to act like that was his first time meeting Castiel and 2) it helped calm his distressful emotions by treating the front man as a stranger. However, Castiel didn't seem to appreciate it. Dean saw a flash of anger in those blue eyes.

Dean dropped Castiel's hand and gaze. Benny then directed Dean around the small circle, gestured to each member, and recited their names. The colorfully tattooed drummer stood closest to him, so that's where he began. The man's name was Crowley, and he had a suave British accent. After Crowley, Dean shook hands with the long-haired brunet. He had a lollipop hanging from his mouth and introduced himself as "Gabe the Babe". Even though Dean was hyper-aware of Castiel's presence and nervous as all hell, he didn't let it show and threw his head back as he laughed at the short guitarist. Next was the clean-cut looking kid, who was also a guitar player. The boy introduced himself as Samandriel, but told Dean to just call him Alfie, which was short for his middle name, Alfred. Lastly, Dean met the blond and also British bassist, who was named Balthazar. As he was shaking the Brit's hand, he noticed Castiel standing very close to the man. Dean would deny it if anyone at that time had asked him, but he felt a pang of jealousy despite the lack of evidence or reason to feel it.

After the introductions, Benny clasped Dean on the shoulder again and talked to the group. "Go easy on him, y'all, alright?"

"I figured you were going to be our personal bodyguard after Inias quit," Castiel said through clenched teeth.

"Nah," Benny replied with a smile. Apparently, he didn't pick up on Castiel's pissed off tone. "I'd prefer the front lines, Chief."

"Oh, come on, Cassie," Gabriel removed the lollipop from his mouth and jumped in. "Don't act like you wouldn't like Ken doll over here," he pointed at Dean with the treat, "to defend your honor."

Castiel cut Gabriel a harsh look that could probably cut through steel, which Gabriel thought was hilarious. "What? He's your type."

Everyone in their little circle was joking around and muttering their agreements to Gabriel. Castiel continued to stare his band mate down, and Dean couldn't help but stare at the lead singer.  _Damn, he's adorable when he gets angry. Wait... Fuck. I shouldn't be thinking shit like that._ He thought to himself as he watched the hardness of Castiel's face and posture, urging Gabriel to stop. After looking at Castiel for probably longer than he should have, Dean started to get angry himself. Of course Castiel didn't like to hear Gabriel's teasing because Castiel didn't want him, not anymore, not after what he did. Dean, in a twisted, fucked up sort of way, was happy that Castiel was mad at him. After all, he deserved to be hated by the man. Although he wanted the job because it paid well, he decided then and there that it was going to be his sole mission to get Castiel to  _loathe_ him and dish out the hurt; Dean would take it and eat it right up. That's why he also decided then and there to say what he did.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass." Dean cut through the group's chatter and looked directly at Castiel as he continued. "I have a girlfriend."

It was a long-shot, Dean knew. Not only was it a part of his genius plan to get Castiel to hate him, it was also a test to see if Castiel even still cared about him at all. If the singer did, he would get angry or upset with Dean over having a girlfriend. If the singer didn't, then he's obviously moved on and doesn't give two shits about Dean.

"That's nice, Dean." Castiel wrapped his arm around Balthazar's waist as he spoke and plastered a big grin on his face. The demons inked onto his arm looked up at Dean and seemed to mock him. He clenched his jaw as Balthazar reciprocated Castiel's touch.

"Is she pretty?" Alfie asked, which thankfully tore Dean's eyes and thoughts away from the scene before him.

"Gorgeous," Dean winked at the kid.

At that moment, Chuck broke into the group and made an announcement. "Okay, we have to get out of here soon. Fans are already outside, so we better get back to the hotel before the crowd gets any bigger."

"Fans?" Dean questioned. "The show isn't until tomorrow."

All of the band members, including Benny, laughed with the exception of Castiel. Gabriel patted Dean on the shoulder. "You got a lot to learn, amigo."

"A lot of fans are already in town," Crowley spoke up. "They know we do sound checks the day before, so some of them queue up outside the gates for a listen or a peek. It's mad, really."

"Seriously? Damn." Dean was surprised at this bit of knowledge. He knew from Lisa and Sam's testimonies that the Seraphs were pretty huge, but he didn't know they were  _that_ huge. He was a little nervous about his job, if he wasn't before. Pam wasn't kidding when she said being the band's bodyguard was a big responsibility.

"Yeah, so let's get going." Chuck ushered everyone to follow him out the back of the stage where the bus waited. Before following, Dean said bye to Benny and waved at the rest of his team.

"Let me run to Pam's trailer real quick," Dean said. "Gotta get my stuff."

"Already taken care of," Chuck assured.

"Thanks, man."

Dean followed Chuck into the giant, black bus. The interior made Dean's jaw drop. Shiny, black tile reflected the warm lighting within the space. A leather sofa with zebra print was parallel to the door, and a leather recliner sat to his left. A _recliner_ and a  _couch_ in a  _bus_. Behind the chair was an 'L' shaped, leather booth with the same zebra pattern as the couch on the back padding, a small table was in front of it, and a little chandelier above the area. Directly across from the dining space was a fancy kitchenette, double-door fridge, mini bar, and all! A small hallway led further into the bus, but Dean didn't go back there. He'd probably fall over from a luxury overdose if he saw any more.

The band was already settled in the space. Crowley and Alfie sat in the booth, Gabriel in the recliner, and Castiel and Balthazar on the couch. Dean tried not to let his eyes linger too long on the way Castiel's arm was draped over the blond's shoulders or how he was whispering into the man's ear. It made Dean's blood boil.

Chuck and Dean joined Crowley and Alfie in the booth. They made small talk along the ride to the hotel. Chuck informed Dean that the driver's name was a goofy man named Martin, and he also explained the situation for the following night. Chuck, Dean, and the band would leave the hotel around five and the show started at seven. As soon as they get there, Dean will put on his radio and get into the position Benny placed him during the sound check. After the show is over, Chuck, Dean, and the band must get on the bus as soon as possible so they can leave without many fan complications. Dean nodded at everything Chuck said and asked questions when appropriate, all the while trying to avert his eyes from the black and blond-haired men on the couch.

The drive to the hotel took about twenty minutes, and was across the bridge in Philadelphia. Chuck explained that they liked to keep a little distance away from the venue to avoid crazy fans. Martin pulled the bus in front of a very ritzy-looking hotel called the Rittenhouse. Following the training Benny had given him, Dean exited the bus first so he could scan for any potential threats. In the clear, Chuck and the band filed out of the big, black beast and into the hotel. Dean felt under-dressed as he walked through the lobby and saw all the well-dressed guests. He continued with the group to the exclusive penthouse elevator. The  _penthouse_. 

The elevator doors opened to a large, open floor-plan and Dean tried his hardest not to gape at his surroundings. The rest of the gang thought nothing of the luxury that surrounded them. Dean marveled at the beauty of the wood floor, the intricate chandeliers, and the lavish furniture and decor. The Persian rug he walked on probably cost more than his and Lisa's place.

Lisa. Dean had a fleeting thought about how it was odd how she hadn't really made an effort to contact him more. Frankly, it surprised him.

"Dean," Chuck called from the left hallway. "Your room is over here."

Dean shook away his thoughts and went down the hall to meet Chuck, who opened the door at the very end of it and gestured for him to walk through. He flipped on the lights and yet again had to fight the urge to gape. "Chuck..." he sighed. The room was beautiful: plush bedding, a window wall, television, the works. "This is too much. It's too nice."

"It's fancy, yeah, but you are the band's number one defense, so you'll always have a room in whatever penthouse they stay in."

"Where do you stay?"

"I usually stay in the bus. There's a bed in there."

Dean nodded. He didn't feel too guilty then; that bus was luxury on wheels. He walked further into the room and placed his stuff by the foot of the bed. Never before had he ever seen such riches. It was a bit overwhelming considering the fact that he came from a middle-class town from South Dakota and before then, Kansas...

Before Dean could think about Kansas and its memories, Chuck handed him a black shirt that said 'SECURITY' on the back of it with a smile on his face. "Your uniform."

"Thanks, man."

"Don't be nervous about tomorrow, Dean." The assistant placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I can tell that you are, but I think you'll do great."

"I really needed that. Thanks again." Truthfully, Dean was nervous about the show tomorrow, but he was even more nervous about not only being stuck  _around_ Castiel, but being stuck  _with_ him. He was the man's bodyguard, which meant constant surveillance and all that jazz. It was going to be long five months.

Chuck left and went down to the bus shortly after that. Dean still stood in his room, mustering up the courage to go out and explore the penthouse. As a bodyguard, his responsibility was to keep everyone safe, so knowing his way around the joint would help, even though they were only staying there for a night. But before doing that, Dean whipped out his cell phone and gave Lisa a call. No answer. He scrolled down to Sam's number and called him. He picked up on the first ring.

"Dean?"

"What? Not even a hello?" Dean chuckled, but it was a little hollow.

A slight pause was on the other end of the line. Sam could already tell Dean was upset. "You saw him today, didn't you?"

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me, Dean. Cas... I'm talking about Cas."

"Can we not do this now?" The older Winchester huffed.

Sam knew all about Dean and Castiel's relationship and about how and why they ended. No matter how much Dean tried to deny it once they'd moved to South Dakota to live with Bobby, Sam knew that his older brother was a wreck and that the preacher's son would always be a sore spot. Even when Dean and Lisa got together and he claimed he was happy, Sam saw right through it.

"Do what now?" Sam played dumb.

"Talk about Cas."

"I just want to make sure you're o-"

"If you say 'okay', I swear I'm going to fly my ass to California and punch you in the throat," Dean snapped.

Another silence. "Dean-"

"Sam, I'm not going to have this conversation with you because it's not worth having. What happened with me and Cas... it's over. I have a job to do and it pays a pretty fucking penny, so you're wrong if you think I'm going to let my  _emotions_ or any of that sissy crap get in the way."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Dean sighed. "I know."

"Look, all I'm saying is be careful, alright? And know you can always call me."

"Yeah, yeah... bitch."

"Jerk." Dean could hear Sam's smile. "Oh, Jess wants to say hi."

Dean heard a little shuffling on the line and was greeted with a high-pitched scream. He held the phone away from his ear to spare his eardrums, which would probably be permanently damaged by the end of the tour. "Well, hello to you, too, Smurf."

"Dean! I can't believe you're with the Seraphs!" Another scream. "That's so exciting! Are they nice? You know if they're not, I won't hesitate to come over there and give them a piece of my mind. I don't care if they're pretty!"

Dean laughed at the excitement and sincerity in Jess's voice. "Yeah, they're cool." He wasn't lying. The Seraphs all seemed nice... with one exception, of course.

"I'm glad to hear it. Listen," Jess's fangirl voice toned down into a more serious one. "Don't let Castiel get to you, okay?"

The corner of his mouth twitched up a bit. "I won't."

"Good. Call us if you need anything. Bones says hi, too."

"I will. That mutt's a chatty one, ain't he?" Dean chuckled.

Jess handed the phone back to Sam. "Let us know how it goes tomorrow night, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mom."

"Shut up. Take it easy."

"You, too."

The call ended and Dean honestly felt a little bit better about the whole situation. With that, he exited his room and made his way around the penthouse. The room next to his was a marble bathroom. The kitchen looked so sterile, Dean didn't even want to look at it because he felt like he'd dirty it up somehow. The hallway opposite of Dean's held three bedrooms equally as rich as his. The living space he first walked into held a baby grand piano, which Alfie sat at. Crowley and Balthazar lounged on the couch with some scotch. Dean wouldn't admit it, but he was glad to see the blond Brit there and not with Castiel. He said hi to the guys as he walked through and over to the staircase.

Upstairs were two bedrooms. Dean assumed the one with the double-doors was the master suite and therefore Castiel's room; after all, he was the lead singer. With that assumption, Dean checked out the other bedroom and the bathroom that sat between the rooms. It was absolutely breathtaking how beautiful it all was, and he often found himself admiring the space during his walk-through. He was staring at a large painting of a blossoming cherry tree that hung in the hallway when he heard the double-doors opening to his left.

. . .

As they were walking into the hotel, Castiel grabbed Gabriel by the shoulder and whispered sternly into his ear. "I need to talk to you when we get up there ASAP."

"I hope it's about whatever's got your panties in a twist," he mumbled back.

Gabriel followed Castiel, who practically sprinted up the staircase and through the double-doors of his suite. The shorter man turned around and closed the doors behind him. He turned to look at Castiel as he paced back-and-forth by the foot of the bed and ran his own hands through his raven hair. "Are you trying to make a trench? Stop pacing, Cassie."

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks. He grabbed the necklace he always wore through the fabric of his t-shirt. He felt the small, thick silver band of the ring dig into his palm. Really, he didn't know why he still wore the damn thing. It was a part of him even though it has caused him so much pain. "It's him."

"Him? Him, who?"

"Our new bodyguard! It's  _him!_ " Castiel tugged on his necklace/shirt harder for emphasis.

Gabriel furrowed his brow at first, but upon the realization of what his band mate meant, his eyes grew as big as saucers. "Oh, shit..."

"Yeah, Gabe! 'Oh, shit' is right!"

"Okay," Gabriel said as he walked towards Castiel. He guided the man backwards until he sat on the bed, then he walked over to the mini bar and poured the two of them whiskeys. Castiel eagerly took the glass and downed it in one gulp. He even snatched Gabriel's glass from his hand and tossed it back. "Slow down, breathe," the guitarist said and sat down next to his best friend. Once he felt Castiel had calmed down enough, he continued. "He's the guy, I get that, but you can't let him get to you. You can't let him destroy what you've built and who you've become."

"Can't let him get to me? Can't let him get to me?!" Cas shouted and looked at his friend. "How the fuck do you suggest I do that?! He's our fucking  _bodyguard_ _!_ "

"Maybe we can ask Pam to fire him," Gabriel suggested.

Castiel scoffed. "There's no way in hell that's going to happen. After she interviewed him, she called me and just  _gushed_ about him. I didn't know it was him, but...  _fuck._ " He dropped his head down into his hands.

"Dammit. You're right."

The singer's voice was muffled behind his hands. "See? We're fucked. Or at least I am."

"No, you're not. I won't let you be."

Castiel picked his head up and looked at Gabriel. "How?"

"We're going to fight fire with fire, my brother from another mother!"

"What do you mean?"

"Cassie, you said he's the guy, right? If that's true, then it's pretty fucked up how he treated you back at rehearsal. Like he didn't even know you!" Gabriel stood and walked back over to the bar to refill their glasses. "So, we're going to fight fire," he said and handed Castiel his glass, "with fire." He clinked their glasses together and they both swallowed down the liquid at the same time. "Besides, I already saw you doing it."

"Can you stop being so fucking cryptic, Gabriel? Jesus Christ."

"You were being all flirty and shit with Zar."

"Yeah? And?"

" _And_ I just so happened to notice how He Who Shall Not Be Named got a little pissy. I thought he just had to take a gnarly shit or something, but now that I know that he's  _him_ , I'd bet the farm that he was jealous, hence the constipated look."

"You're joking."

Gabriel raised his hand. "Scout's honor!"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "You weren't even a boy scout, you imbecile."

"I'm offended you would think I would stoop so low and impersonate a boy scout!" Gabriel placed his hand dramatically over his heart in disbelief. "But seriously, keep up that shit with Zar. I and everyone else knows you're just occasional fuck buddies, but  _he_ doesn't. Make him jealous, piss him off, the whole nine yards, Cassie! Make him squirm!"

"Remind me never to get on your bad side. You're pure evil, but you make a very interesting suggestion." Castiel stood with a new sense of empowerment. "I'll do it."

Gabriel grabbed his friend by the shoulders and turned him so they were facing each other. "I'm proud of you, my son."

"You're only seven months older than me, assbutt."

"Semantics." Gabriel pulled Castiel in for a quick hug before walking towards the double-doors and pulling them open.

. . .

Dean met Gabriel's eyes as he watched the guitarist walk through the doors. Gabriel gave him the stink eye, which unsettled Dean a little considering how well they seemed to get along together at the sound check. But the more he thought about it, he realized that this was a good thing, as it meant his master "Get Cas to Hate Me" plan was going off without a hitch; he figured Castiel told his band mate about the what an asshole he was, about that cold Kansas night. If Gabriel was mad at him, odds were Castiel probably was, too.

As Gabriel walked past Dean, Castiel yelled to the man from his suite. "Gabe!" The singer walked to the doors and leaned against one of them like he was the coolest, most suave mother fucker to ever walk God's green Earth.  _Because he is_ , Dean's traitor mind thought. "I forgot to ask earlier, but do you have any more lube?" Dean gulped. "Zar and I ran out."

 _That_ got Dean's blood pressure up. Castiel and Balthazar were fuck buddies or worse, together.

 _Cool it, Dean,_ he thought to himself.  _You deserve this... and so much worse._

"I gotcha covered!" Gabriel ran to his room to retrieve the lube.

Castiel, who Dean couldn't help but glare at a little, tilted his head back slightly and smirked. "Oh. Hello, Dean."

Just to be a douche, Dean replied. "Hey, uh, Castiel, right?" The singer's jaw clenched in anger, making it Dean's turn to smirk.

_Oh, this is going to be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh-roh! Things are getting pretty tense between these dorks. Dean's first show, more creepily accurate music, and jealousy is next! Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope y'all are enjoying it!
> 
> Comments and feedback are hella appreciated! :-)
> 
> Here's what I imagine the tour bus to look like: http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/originals/31/02/c8/3102c8bf45cf55a4a763cdf59bbcbe8f.jpg
> 
> Also, the Rittenhouse Hotel is a real place in Philadelphia. It's BEAUTIFUL, and I would love to stay there someday. Sadly, I'm but a wee college kid with like three dollars. I'm taking this whole "starving artist" shit a little too seriously, haha. But yeah, real place. Not sure how the penthouse looks, so use your infinitely more beautiful imaginations!
> 
> Much love,  
> Sarah


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so slight change in tags; top!Dean/bottom!Castiel is implied and referenced in this chapter. Surprise! There is a little smut. Just a bit. A tease, if you will. I plan on this fic getting SO much dirtier later, so consider this a sort of taste test. The rest of the fic will contain strictly top!Castiel/bottom!Dean, need not worry!
> 
> Song of the Chapter: "You Make Loving Fun" - Fleetwood Mac https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNPQx_Bb2Fo
> 
> The piano cover Alfie and Castiel play: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qF7uinoHOIQ
> 
> The first show is next! More eerily accurate songs to come! Also, know that this whole fic won't go day-by-day, as it has been. It's just so y'all get a feel for the way the Seraphs' tour, the arrangements, and all that jazz work. Just in case any of y'all were curious or felt things to be moving by slowly, I don't know. I'm a super self-conscious writer and constantly second guess myself.
> 
> Thanks for reading, by the way. What did I ever do to deserve y'all?! xoxo
> 
> Comments and feedback make my heart grow two sizes. It's not endangering to my health, I promise. I asked a cardiologist.
> 
> P.S. If there are any mistakes, I'm not sorry. It's 4:12 AM. :-)

After the awkwardness that ensued in the hallway, Dean tried his best not to angrily stomp down the steps. It helped calm him knowing that he got the last word, but he couldn't stifle the jealousy and possessiveness he felt over learning Castiel and Balthazar had an active sex life. Not only were these five months going to be a royal pain in Dean's ass - and his heart - because of Castiel, they were also going to be exceedingly difficult because he also had to be around Balthazar, the man who was  _screwing_ Castiel.

 _Calm down, Dean,_ he thought to himself as he bounded down the stairs.  _You can always rub Lisa in his face._ He smirked at the thought.  _Yeah, two can play at this game_ _._

Back down in the main living room, Dean saw Balthazar and Crowley sitting on the expensive, white leather couch and fought the urge to stare daggers into the back of Balthazar's head as he and the drummer were talking. 

"Hey, Dean!" Alfie called from the piano and Dean smiled. He liked the kid. He walked over to the long piano bench and sat down next to the guitar player.

"What's up, man?"

"Not much," Alfie said. "Just messing around on here." He gestured toward the keys.

"You can play?"

"Yeah, but not as well as Castiel," Alfie admitted.

"Oh," Dean sighed but quickly brought the smile back to his face as he looked the young man in the eyes. "Well, can you play me somethin'?"

"Sure!" Alfie sat up straighter and scooted further left on the bench, Dean sitting on the right. He began to play a buoyant, upbeat melody with strong chords. "Castiel taught me this one!" He exlaimed over the music.

As soon as the words left Alfie's mouth, Dean recognized the tune. The bittersweet memory attached to the song began to play in his head as he blankly looked at the ivory keys in front of him.

. . .

_**Seven Years Ago** _

Dean pulled up to the curb in front of the Novak's house. Zachariah Novak was a renowned preacher and prided himself on his academic and theological accomplishments; after all, they were the reasons why the Novak family was so well off. They lived on the North end of town, which - go figure - was the rich part of town. Eden Estates - the development the Novaks lived in - was gated, which Dean scoffed at every time he entered the passcode that Castiel gave him.

Castiel's house was nestled in the back of Eden Estates between two other equally large residences. The house was a lavish, three-story colonial made of redbrick and was framed by perfectly trimmed Kentucky bluegrass, other manicured plants, and, get this, a fountain. Yes, a fucking fountain with an angel as its centerpiece, pouring water out of a chalice. Dean always threw a penny in it when he came over just for kicks because he's a five year-old and could never control himself.

It was summertime; school was out and everybody could relax, vacation, and do as they so pleased. It had been almost a month since Castiel professed his feelings for Dean and they started dating. Things couldn't have been better. Ever since they kissed on Dean's bedroom floor, it actually became hard to stop. Any chance they got, their hands were all over each other, which surprised Dean because Castiel was shy and ironically enough a preacher's son. They hadn't had sex, but that was okay. Dean didn't want to pressure or rush anything with Castiel and let things move at his pace. So they hung out, they talked, they kissed, and they even made it to third base once.

The only thing that bothered both Dean and Castiel about their relationship is that it had to be kept a secret. A lot of people at school noticed the two getting closer, but from an outsider's perspective, it innocently looked like they were just best friends. Little did they know, they would lie to their parents, sneak over to each other's houses, and be their real selves: boyfriends. Castiel usually went over to Dean's house simply because it was rare for both of his parents to not be home, but John went out to the bar every day like clockwork, and sometimes he would stay out until the wee hours of the morning. Sam knew about their relationship and didn't have a problem with it. In fact, he and Castiel became good friends. Dean always remarked that it was because "poindexters stick together".

It's not that Dean was ashamed of Castiel or vice-versa, it's simply that they didn't want either of their parents to be suspicious. Sam said that someone would have to be blind to think they weren't together with the amount of heart-eyes and blushing that goes on between them. Not only that, but Zachariah and Naomi Novak were strict in every sense of the word, so even if Castiel did introduce Dean as his friend, it wasn't very likely that they would like him or let the friendship persist. Dean belonged to a lower-middle class family, smoked cigarettes, and wore leather, not to mention he was practically sex on bowed, denim-clad legs. So they kept their relationship a secret, and though it bothered them, what mattered the most was that they were together.

It was a rare occasion for Castiel to be home alone, and Dean was thankful for it. He hardly ever came to the Novak house but when he did, Castiel would always play him something on the piano. Apparently Zachariah and Naomi believed teaching a young Castiel how to play would help discipline him and turn him into a respectable, upstanding Christian; he would play and sing at church every Sunday for the congregation. Castiel admitted to Dean that he hated playing for church simply because he was starting to feel like an outsider within its walls and iconographic-stained windows. What he really enjoyed was sifting through his mother's old records from the 70s, listening to and covering them on piano. He said it felt like he was connecting with who his mother was before she converted and married his father, and that he was taking something his parents used as discipline and turning it into something of rebellion. Dean admired that a lot about his boyfriend.

Dean approached the heavy door and banged the knocker against its grain. Castiel opened the door after only the second knock with a giant smile on his face that made his eyes twinkle.

"Hey, angel," Dean smiled back. Castiel grabbed the front of his AC/DC shirt and yanked him inside, quickly shutting the door and pushing him up against it as their lips crashed together in ungraceful haste. "Whoa," he said between kisses. "A little eager there, Cas?"

"Missed you," Castiel mumbled against Dean's mouth.

Dean brought his hands up to his boyfriend's face and pulled it away from his, but only so he could look into those impossibly blue eyes. "I missed you, too, baby." He leaned forward and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Castiel's lips. "Where'd your parents go?"

"Father had a wedding to ordain and Mother went with him." Castiel took both of Dean's hands in his as he spoke. "It's in Topeka, so they got a hotel there for the night."

"Cas, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you only invited me here for some hanky panky," Dean teased and waggled his eyebrows, making his boyfriend blush.

"Maybe..." he said innocently. "I figured we could have a night to ourselves, too."

Dean smiled. "I'd like that."

"Good. Now, come on," Castiel said as he released one of Dean's hands and started walking with him towards the sitting room. "I learned a new song today."

"Yeah? Who's it by?"

"Fleetwood Mac," Castiel answered as he sat down on the piano bench, Dean sitting beside him on his right. "I think they're my new favorite."

"I thought I was your favorite," Dean joked and playfully nudged Castiel before draping his arm behind his boyfriend and resting his hand on his waist.

The pianist rolled his eyes but had the hint of a smile on his face. "You're simple."

Before Dean could retort, Castiel's hands splayed across the piano in wide, powerful chords as he started to play a jovial tune and Dean fell silent. What did he ever do to deserve such an amazing, beautiful, and talented boyfriend? Castiel frequently glanced over at Dean as he sang. Neither of them could stop themselves from smiling.

_Sweet wonderful you,_

_You make me happy with the things you do._

_Oh, can it be so,_

_This feeling follows me wherever I go._

_I never did believe in miracles,_

_But I have a feeling it's time to try._

Dean didn't recognize the song even though he liked Fleetwood Mac. Regardless, butterflies still floated around in his stomach.

_I never did believe in the ways of magic,_

_But I'm beginning to wonder why._

_Don't, don't break the spell._

_It would be different and you know it will._

Castiel gave Dean his full attention as he carried out the rest of the song.

_You, you make loving fun,_

Dean's lips parted and he took a sharp intake of breath. Castiel said love; well, a variation of it. It was the first time that word ever came up between them. They had been dating for about a month and had been friends for even longer. Honestly, Dean fell in love with the preacher's son two days after their first kiss. They were eating lunch together outside on the picnic benches at school. A bee landed on Castiel's orange. Dean freaked out and threatened to kill it, but Castiel held his hand up to stop his new boyfriend's brutal slaying of the little bug.

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel assured. "He's just curious. Let him  _bee_."

"Oh my God, did you just..."

A small silence passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes, but then they were laughing their asses off at Castiel's lame pun. Dean knew right then and there that he was screwed as he watched Castiel's nose scrunch up and his gummy smile split his face open as he cackled at the hilarity of the joke. His heart swelled with unyielding affection and love for the boy across from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Dean didn't want to freak Castiel out by telling him that revelation because he was afraid it would scare the blue-eyed boy off, and he promised himself he would move at Castiel's pace. Now hearing that word fall from Castiel's lips as he sang caught him off guard but in the best way possible. Castiel loved him. He could feel it.

_And I don't have to tell you you're the only one._

_You make loving fun._

_You make loving fun._

After the song was over, Castiel swiveled his body to face Dean and took his boyfriend's hands within his own. He rubbed Dean's knuckles with his thumbs.

"What?" The pianist playfully asked with a small smile.

"I love you." It was Castiel's turn to gasp. The grasp he had on Dean's hands loosened a bit in delightful shock. Dean took the opportunity to cradle Castiel's face between his large hands. He rubbed his thumbs over Castiel's cheekbones and stared into the boy's deep blue eyes. "I love you," he repeated.

Castiel lunged forward and collided their mouths together. After a few shared kisses, he whispered against Dean's trembling lips, "I love you, too."

. . .

 _"You make loving fun!"_ Alfie, Crowley, and Balthazar sang obnoxiously loud with goofy grins, bringing Dean back from his memories.

Dean looked around to see the drummer and the bassist leaning against the piano. Alfie stared at them with amusement as they all giggled together. Dean felt as though he was being watched. He looked over to the staircase to find Castiel and Gabriel standing halfway down on it. Blue eyes met green, and Dean could've sworn he saw a flash of tenderness shine in those mystifying orbs, but whatever he thought he saw was replaced by a stern look. Never breaking eye contact, Castiel spoke.

"Alright, quit playing that  _shit_ ," he spat. Dean narrowed his eyes at the frontman.

"What's the matter, _sweet wonderful you?_ " Balthazar quipped, which did nothing to ebb Dean's anger.

"Yeah, loosen up a bit, mate," Crowley piped up.

Castiel rolled his eyes and continued down the steps, Gabriel trailing behind him. "Fine," he huffed. "Let's drink."

Dean clambered off the piano bench and moved over to the sitting area. He plopped down on probably the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in. The rest of the band gathered in the space, too. Alfie took the chair beside Dean's, Crowley sat on the floor, and Balthazar and Castiel were joined at the hip on the couch. Castiel even had the nerve to throw his tattooed arm across the blond's shoulders and whisper something in the man's ear like he'd done on the bus. Gabriel walked over to the bar and poured everyone two fingers of some ridiculously expensive, top-shelf whiskey. He handed everyone a glass, Dean being last. Dean felt a little strange taking the drink considering he basically worked for these guys, but he accepted the glass nonetheless.

With drink in hand, Gabriel stood by the fireplace and held his beverage up, signaling a toast. Everyone raised their glasses. "Here's to a kick ass tour and to Dean," he said as he looked at the bodyguard. Dean felt flustered being put on the spot like that, and he waved his hand in dismissal. "Dean, who we would all be defenseless and  _abandoned_ without."

 _Well, that hurt,_ Dean thought to himself. So Gabriel did know about what happened. Good; the more hate, the better. Everyone hooted and hollered at Gabriel's toast except for Castiel, who just downed his drink in one huge gulp. Not a half bad idea. Dean followed suit.

The rest of the night went by incredibly slow. Dean didn't have any more drinks because he figured he was working, and he didn't want to get drunk and say something stupid like how sorry he was to Castiel; he was somewhat of an emotional drunk, the liquor being a sort of truth serum. If he wanted to keep up his plan to make Castiel angry at him, he couldn't wear his heart on his sleeve. The rest of the guys were all pretty trashed. They sang some old songs and some of their own, and Crowley would drum on the coffee table as they did so. After the singing died down, Balthazar - who was apparently oblivious to Dean and Castiel's past - spoke up.

"So Dean," the Brit smiled. "Where are you from?"

As much as Dean hated the guy for being Castiel's fuck buddy, he knew he had no right to feel that way anymore, so he played nicely. "South Dakota," he answered with a big, fake grin.

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"How the fuck did you end up here then?" A drunk and giggly Crowley asked.

"Lost my job, saw an ad in the paper, and called Pam," Dean said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Why's there an ad for us all th'way out there?" Alfie slurred.

Dean noticed in his peripheral vision that Castiel - who was leaned back with legs and arms outstretched on the couch with Balthazar draped over him like a damn throw blanket - tensed a little. "Not sure, but I'm thankful for it." Truthfully, he was thankful for this gig. It paid well and even though it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, he was getting his well deserved karma.

"What did you do before this?" Balthazar asked.

"I was a mechanic." Gabriel scoffed into his glass, and Dean shot him a tiny glare.

"Didn't you say y'had a girlfriend?" Alfie inquired.

Dean grinned like a Cheshire cat. Talking about Lisa would surely make his ex-boyfriend mad. "I do. Her name's Lisa."

"Oooh, Lisa," Crowley teased. "Is she just a roll around in the hay or is it serious?"

"It's pretty serious," Dean responded and glanced at a pissed off Castiel. "We've been dating for six months, and we live together now."

"Six months and you're already moved in?" Gabriel questioned. "What, did you knock her up or something?"

Dean laughed. "Nah, nothing like that."

"Are you planning on marrying her then?" Castiel's irritated voice growled, making the hair on Dean's arms stand up. They locked themselves into a heated stare.

"Maybe," Dean smirked. Truthfully, he moved in with Lisa because he was tired of living at Bobby's house. Sure, from the outsider's perspective, Dean and Lisa did look like a serious thing, but he didn't feel like it was. They hadn't said those three words to each other either. Dean cared for Lisa, but he wouldn't go so far as love. He lost the ability and the right to do that a long time ago...

Castiel's jaw clenched and a fire burned in his eyes at Dean's lie. Perfect. "I'm going to bed," the singer stated. He leaned down to whisper in Balthazar's ear again, causing the Brit to turn fifty shades of red. They both got up together, and Castiel took the blond's hand in his. "Thanks for the lube, Gabe," he said over his shoulder as he led Balthazar to the stairs. Dean clenched his fists against his thighs.

"No problem-o, Cassie! Don't be too loud!"

"I'm not making any promises!" He yelled from the top of the stairs.

Dean heard the door to Castiel's suite slam shut and figured that was his cue to retreat to his own room before his jealousy got the better of him and he marched up those steps. "I should go to bed, too."

"'Night, Dean," Alfie and Crowley said in unison. He waved as he turned down the hallway.

In his room with the door shut and locked behind him, Dean whipped out his phone and saw that he had a text from Lisa.

 **Lisa Braeden:** _Sorry I missed your call, babe. Been busy. Hope tomorrow goes well! xoxo_

Dean smiled at the text and put his phone down on the nightstand. He stripped down to his black boxer-briefs and climbed into the opulent bed. It was so soft and comfortable, he could've cried. The bed he and Lisa had paled in comparison. He laid on his back on the side that was closest to the door. In the moonlight, he could see the crown molding along the ceiling. His eyes traced the trim as he tried to will himself to sleep, but all he could think about was the fact that Castiel and Balthazar probably had their hands all over each other.

At least Dean had his memories. He had the satisfaction of knowing that he was the singer's first. Naturally, his thoughts wandered back to where the memory of Castiel playing "You Make Loving Fun" left off earlier.

. . .

"I love you, too," Castiel whispered.

Dean moved his hands down to his boyfriend's thighs that were straddling the piano bench like his own. He lunged forward and captured Castiel's lips in a hungrier, open-mouthed kiss as he ran his hands from Castiel's knees, up his thighs, closer to his crotch but not touching it and back down, repeating the motion. The blue-eyed boy threw his arms around Dean's neck and moaned into Dean's mouth each time his hands got closer to his half-hard cock. Dean swallowed up each needy sound with a searing kiss.

"Please," Castiel pleaded.

Dean understood what his boyfriend wanted, nodded his head slightly, and grabbed underneath Castiel's knees. He pulled Castiel's legs over his own and pulled the boy flush against him and onto his lap. The boys groaned as their clothed erections rubbed against each other's. Castiel rocked his hips slowly on Dean's lap as they continued their heated kisses. He ran a hand through Dean's sandy brown hair and pulled it a little, making Dean's grasp on his ass tighten. As Dean's mouth descended over his boyfriend's bared neck and sucked and nibbled on his jugular, Castiel's other hand squeezed Dean's left shoulder hard enough to leave little finger pad shaped bruises.

"Dean," he breathed.

Dean let his nose and lips skim across the boy's neck until he reached his ear. He gently rolled the lobe between his teeth before speaking lowly into his boyfriend's ear. "Tell me what you want, angel." He licked the shell of his ear. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you," Castiel moaned as he gyrated his hips down harder onto Dean's hard, denim-clad cock. "Make love to me."

Dean stilled for second and pulled back to look into Castiel's eyes. "Are you sure, babe? I don't want you to feel obligated just because I told you that I love you."

"I'm sure, Dean," he spoke with a sincerity. "I want to  _because_ you love me." He brought his hand to Dean's cheek. "And because I love you, too."

Dean held his hands beneath Castiel's thighs to keep him wrapped around his body as he stood from the bench. Castiel crossed his feet to stay firmly pressed against Dean's torso as he walked them upstairs to his room. Dean had only been inside the Novak house a couple of times, but he remembered that Castiel's room was the third door on the left. Lips locked with his boyfriend's, he walked through the threshold and collapsed on the navy blue bedspread.

. . .

The first time Dean and Castiel had sex, it just played out with the blue-eyed boy being the bottom. However, when their teenage libidos and practically nonexistent refractory periods sparked up again shortly after that first round, Dean asked to be the bottom. He'd always wondered what it felt like, and after seeing how much Castiel - the first and only boy he was ever with - thoroughly enjoyed himself, he knew he had to try it. From that point on, Dean was always the bottom, and a needy one at that. But because he didn't have any lube on hand, he just thought of their first time. Thinking about that moment made him feel a little better about Castiel and Balthazar, too, because he knew he was Castiel's first in every sense of the word.

As Dean laid in the plush, white bedding of his penthouse room, he couldn't help the arousal that coursed through him as the memory. His hands traveled under the covers as the image of Castiel sprawled out beneath him came into focus. He remembered both of them being breathless and trembling as Dean made Castiel fall apart at the seams, moaning and writhing under his tentative, gentle touch.

Dean plunged his hands into his boxer-briefs and finally wrapped his hand around his leaking erection and the other down to cup his balls. "Fuck," he moaned softly into the dark room.

There was no finesse in the rough way he stroked his cock. He hadn't allowed himself to think about Castiel, let alone in such a scandalous way, for a very long time; how could he when he knew it'd tear him to shreds? But in that moment, he threw caution to the wind and let it out. He swiped his thumb over the slick head of his cock and over the slit. " _Cas_ ," he hissed.

He pictured two blue eyes eclipsed with lust.  _"Feels so good, Dean,"_ he heard the familiar, gravely voice say in his ears. He quickened the pace of his hand and rolled his balls between the fingers of the other as he felt them draw closer to his body.

He remembered the blush that spanned from Castiel's chest up to his beautiful face. He remembered the way Castiel grabbed his ass in attempt to pull him closer, pull him deeper. He remembered Castiel's tight, wet heat squeezing him like a vice.

"Gonna come, Cas," Dean panted out to the quiet space, just as he did all those years ago. "Come with me, angel."

The image of Castiel's face as he came untouched around Dean's cock and the way he shouted his boyfriend's name was forever seared into Dean's mind, and that's what sent him over the edge. He bit his lip to stifle what would've been an embarrassingly loud groan as he felt his cock pulse and he climaxed, his warm seed coated the inside of his underwear and palm. 

After riding out his high, Dean stripped off his soiled boxer-briefs and cleaned himself off with them before throwing them on the floor beside the bed. Before he fell into his orgasm-induced sleep, he thankfully remembered to set his alarm. He snuggled into the insanely comfortable bed, relieved that he could finally catch some shut-eye. Despite the fact that he knew he probably shouldn't have that, he was too tired to let his worry keep him awake.

The last thing that went through Dean's mind that night was just how unbelievably fucked he was.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of his alarm. He walked out into the hallway en route to the bathroom and didn't hear anyone else up, much to his relief. He washed quickly in attempt to rid himself of the emotional strain of the day prior and the honest regret he felt towards everything, including the speedy hand job, but to no avail. After he finished showering, he continued the rest of his morning routine. While brushing his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror. For a second, he could've sworn he saw a flash of silver on his right ring finger, but before he could think too much about it and get a better look, it was gone. It was no coincidence why his mind played that particular trick on him; Castiel had come crashing back into his life, like some sort of falling angel, plummeting down to Earth and landing directly at his feet.

The job was going to be hard, but Dean needed it and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, regardless of what happened in Kansas all those years ago. Like he thought upon first laying eyes upon the blue-eyed man yesterday, he deserved this punishment. So, the only way to do the job right and not let the past cripple him was to keep up the asshole act for both his and Castiel's sake.

Dean spat out his mouthful of foamy toothpaste and changed into his work clothes, being his fitted black security t-shirt and his favorite blue jeans. As he exited the bathroom, he still didn't hear anyone stirring, so he went back into his room, packed up his things, and made the bed, simply out of habit. He knew that the maid service would strip the sheets and remake the bed with clean linens once he and the band left, but he couldn't help it.

With nothing left to do in his room, Dean ventured out into the grand living space. Still, no one was in sight. It didn't really surprise him that no one was awake yet considering the Seraphs are rockstars and do what rockstars do best: drink. Although, he remembered that Castiel and Balthazar hadn't had much of anything to drink, at least not with the rest of the crew. Who knows what those two did while they were up in Castiel's master suite? Well, Dean knew exactly what went on between the lead singer and bassist; Castiel had thrown the dirty details in Dean's face.

Dean cringed as he walked towards the kitchen at the thought of Castiel and Balthazar getting it on even though he knew that he had no right to do so. Entering the kitchen did a good job helping Dean avert his attention to something other than his irrational jealousy. Like the rest of the penthouse space, the kitchen was nothing short of luxury: stainless steel appliances, marble counter tops, an island, you name it. Everything was state-of-the-art, and he couldn't help but gawk at it all. He just wanted a simple cup of coffee, but the machine looked like you needed a degree - or at least some sort of special training - to operate it.

Ten minutes later, Dean had himself a piping hot cup of caffeine. He walked over to what looked like an entrance - or exit, rather - to a patio, complete with outdoor furniture and an infinity pool, which looked like a promisingly relaxing place to enjoy his morning. To his surprise, he heard a low voice singing as he stepped outside.

. . .

Needless to say, Castiel had a shitty night. Sure, he got laid, but he still felt the hole in his chest. If someone would've asked him two days ago how he felt about Dean Winchester and their whole situation, he probably would've given a half-hearted shrug and said something generic like "time heals all wounds," but the truth of the matter was there was always this emptiness within him since the day Dean left. Over time, the raw pain of that hole had ceased, but the ghost of the ache remained.

All of a sudden, that hole was torn wide open again; the sheet Castiel draped over it in attempt to cover it up had sunken through upon seeing Dean again. He felt more vulnerable than anything despite how easily he seemed to play it all off by being a dick to the green-eyed man. Around his fellow band members - aside from Gabriel, who had a knack for seeing straight through his shit - and, of course, Dean, he had to slip into that cocky, I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-you attitude just to maintain his sanity, but alone out there on the patio, he didn't have to act for anyone.

Castiel, who wore a fluffy white robe, laid across one of the many couches by the infinity pool, one of his tattooed arms thrown across his face to shield his eyes from the sun while the other held a cigarette that he would lackadaisically bring to his lips and take a slow drag from. As he laid there, he couldn't help but allow the familiar melody to sound on his vocal chords. In a low, morning-graveled, smoky voice, he began to sing to himself.

_Sweet wonderful you,_

_You make me happy with the things you do._

. . .

Dean was hit with the smell of nicotine and he realized he wasn't alone. He walked closer to the source of the smell and once he found it, he stood there with his hands frozen around his mug and couldn't believe his ears. Castiel was singing  _that_ song. He was singing  _the_ song that he got pissed off about the night before,  _the_ song he used to profess his love to  _him_ , Dean Winchester. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and willed his feet to keep moving. He couldn't hear that song again, and he especially couldn't hear Castiel  _fucking_ Novak sing it. Nope. Dean wouldn't allow it.

Yet, Dean couldn't help but stand in awe for a few moments just staring at Castiel. Dean found it unusual how casually Castiel was laying. Back in Kansas, Castiel was very proper and it showed in his posture and overall demeanor. Now as Dean looked at the boy he used to know, he could see how different Castiel had become, even just by noting his relaxed form. He watched the smoke stream out of the cigarette and swirl around in the morning air until it eventually dissipated. Once Dean came to the conclusion that he was being a creep and needed to stop, he snapped out of it. 

With his cocky demeanor back in place and a booming voice, Dean announced his presence. "Shouldn't you be saving your voice or whatever?" He took satisfaction in seeing a head of raven hair jumping from the couch and landing on the hard ground with a soft  _'oof'_.

"What the fuck, Dean?" The lead singer spat. Hearing the man cuss shouldn't be nearly as attractive as it is shocking, but dammit, Dean couldn't help but smile a little bit before setting his lips back into a firm line.

"You shouldn't be smoking, man."

Castiel stood up and brushed some of his cigarette's ashes off of his robe. "Yeah, well, there are a lot of things I shouldn't do," he said and raised his hard eyes to Dean, "or  _have_ done."

 _Wow... Well, that was a low fucking blow,_ Dean thought. Castiel was obviously alluding to the fact that he never should've "done" Dean, and if that didn't hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Luckily, Dean was expecting some sort of snappy, asshole-ish remark, so the singer's words didn't even phase him, or didn't appear to at least. "Oh, you mean like your tattoos?"

Castiel visibly bristled at that, which Dean answered with a smug smile. It was total bullshit considering Dean himself had a tattoo, but Castiel didn't know that. All is fair in love and war. After quickly recovering from his anger, Castiel mirrored Dean's cocky attitude, even complete with a smile. "Yes, the ones a caught you staring at yesterday." Dean dipped his head in embarrassment. "Next time you decide to look at them, I suggest you close your mouth. You'll catch flies that way."

Castiel walked past Dean and back into the penthouse. He always did have to have the last word, Dean recalled, and  _no_ , Dean totally didn't take a whiff of the air after Castiel walked by and he definitely didn't enjoy the unique aroma left in the star's wake.

. . .

The rest of the morning and afternoon was somewhat of a blur, a hectic, chaotic blur, at least for Dean. Chuck - who came up to the penthouse around noon - and the rest of the band members seemed perfectly at ease in the midst of all the crazy. Phone calls were being made left-and-right between Chuck, Castiel, Benny, and Pam. They had to get their lineup for the show down, make sure the appropriate instruments were definitely available for the set, warn each other about overzealous fans, and all kinds of other shit that just made Dean's head spin. Having a front-row seat at seeing what the Seraphs have to go through for gigs made him appreciate his favorite artists a million times more.

After handling everything, Chuck took Dean's bag and explained that he would carry it to the bus so Dean could be more alert and better on-guard; bellhops already took the band's luggage to the bus. Despite staying at a hotel somewhat far from the concert venue, they were greeted by a wall of paparazzi once they exited the hotel. The flashes of the camera temporarily blinded Dean, but he quickly got used to it once he came to the very obvious conclusion that he would have to deal with this kind of thing a lot considering he was a bodyguard for - as Lisa called them - rock gods.

They made it on the bus and to the venue without a hitch. The band was herded into the dressing room to get ready for the show while Dean was met by Benny and the rest of the crew just to go over positions and ensure their radios worked.

"You alright, brotha?"

Dean didn't realize he was frozen in his spot until he heard the familiar southern drawl. He snapped his head up and saw the other guys walking away toward their posts. He met Benny's scruffy face and concerned expression. "Yeah," he coughed. "Just a bit nervous is all."

Benny chuckled and gave Dean's shoulder a pat. "I remember my first show. Feels like you're amped up but gonna puke, right?"

"Ha," Dean gave a weak laugh, "exactly." Sure, he was nervous about working his first gig as a security guard, but little did Benny know, he was more nervous and sick about seeing Castiel up there on stage and possibly hearing songs that would remind him of the past.

"You'll be fine, I promise ya." Benny shook his shoulder a bit and flashed him a warm, honest smile that really did make him feel a bit better.

"Thanks, man."

"Any time," he said as he raised his head to look at Pam, who was gesturing for them to get to their positions. "The Queen has spoken. It's showtime!"

Dean looked to where Pam was standing in a black leather jacket and tattered Ramones shirt near the steps on the opposite side of the back of the stage. She blew him a kiss before swatting her hand towards the stage. He pretended to catch the kiss and put it in his pocket before quickly climbing the west-side steps to the area Benny placed him the previous day. The barricade was set up to hold back the VIP fans he would be manning. It was nearing six o'clock. The show didn't start until seven, but he knew people would start filing in any minute now.

. . .

The show was supposed to start at seven. Naturally, that didn't happen. Rockstars... go figure.

Dean's section was filled and as far as he could tell, everyone seemed harmless. It was mostly women with a few guys scattered throughout. Unlike the soundcheck, he couldn't watch the performance. It sucked, but it was just part of the job. He had to keep an eye on the fans to make sure no one did anything stupid, especially with being right there on stage.

Since they were at a pavilion, Dean could tell that it was almost completely dark outside. He sneaked a quick peek of the huge crowd and almost felt nervous for the Seraphs. The place was absolutely packed; heads of hair and cellphone lights and flashes littered the sea of people. He could even see a little bit of the green - which was also blanketed with people - from where he was standing. It was a rush, even for him. Despite the shitty coincidence of the lead singer being your ex-boyfriend, he was incredibly thankful for the job.

Nearing 7:15, the lights on-stage shut off and the fans cheered in anticipation of the Seraphs. Dean was a little taken back by how the demeanor of his group changed just by the lights cutting out; they went from calm and collected to frantic and feral in a literal flash. Benny warned him that this would happen, but it was still surprising. More nerves set into his stomach, though it wasn't because of the people, it was because Castiel and his stupid, hot self was about to be singing for thousands of people... singing about how much of a fuck up Dean is if the soundcheck was anything to go by.

"Get ready, boys." Benny's voice sounded in Dean's left ear.

Suddenly, the stage lights strobed and the frequency of the crowd's screams somehow got impossibly higher. Dean looked down at his feet for a brief moment and noticed there was synthetic smoke swirling around his ankles. He so badly wanted to see what was happening behind him, but this was a crucial time to watch his group, who looked like they were about to explode from excitement and break the gate that was restraining them down.

"How the fuck are ya, New Jersey?!" Castiel's voice blasted from the wall of speakers. A shiver ran down Dean's spine, though he'd never admit it.

. . .

The first half of the set went along smoothly. Dean's section was having a good time and honestly, so was he. Gordon and Roy were talking to each other over the radio about some "hot chicks" in their sections who kept flashing their breasts while Benny kept telling them to knock it off. The whole situation was hilarious. Also, he really liked the Seraphs' sound regardless of the lead singer, and the best parts were that he didn't have to actually look at Castiel at all - even though part of him secretly wanted to - and there were no songs played that made him feel like shit... but he spoke too soon.

After the end of the last song, Crowley kept drumming, the beat slow and leisurely. Dean noticed his section all had their hands up, so he assumed the rest of the crowd in the pavilion did, too, because someone on stage had directed them to do so. Then, Castiel's slightly winded voice spoke alongside the snare and bass.

"I wanted to thank all of you for coming out tonight."

Cheers of gratitude sounded out.

"We've come so far, and we know that you have, too, in different ways, and we're so proud of all of you for that."

A few _'we love yous'_ could be heard above the bedlam of voices.

"We want all of you to always keep fighting and to never look back, alright?"

The crowd answered with a collective hurrah.

"And we want you to remember that the past should  _always_ stay dead."

Everyone went wild after that. If Dean didn't know Castiel, he'd believe that was a hell of a speech, but unfortunately, he knew exactly what Castiel meant by it and it truthfully hurt him to his core. Just then, the lead singer belted out the first word of the next song before the heavy guitar joined in. Dean couldn't stop himself from angling his body away from his post, though he stood perpendicular to it, facing the main audience so he could watch both his section and the tantalizing singer.

_Tailored sheets to fix this dirty bed._

_For once this dirt won’t come all off,_

_It can’t be pushed aside._

_The wind is blowing through closed_ _doors with shadows_

_Dancing in the hall._

_Now, hit the floor crawl to the side._

_We’ve all made better moves_

_Despite the slowing of our feet._

Dean's jaw dropped upon his first glance of Castiel. A bright, white light enveloped his sweat-drenched body. He donned a thin, navy muscle shirt and frayed black skinny jeans. Even from Dean's spot, he could see the dark-haired man's neck and inked arms glistening with sweat, which made him lick his lips subconsciously.  _God_ , the man was beautiful. The rest of the band wore somewhat similar clothing, and Dean could've sworn he could smell Gabriel - who was the closest to him - from where he was standing.

_For once let's leave the_

_Dreaming to someone else._

Castiel removed the red-taped mic with the word "SINNER" written in permanent marker along the side of it from the stand and walked closer to the edge of the stage as he continued to sing, clutching the instrument between both of his hands. Harry followed Castiel around with the camera, and Ed was getting a close-up of Gabriel's fingers flying over the neck of his guitar.

_Our time has slipped away._

_We're sinking faster, faster,_

_No more play,_

_Get ready for the catch._

_I’m at the next step waiting for a year._

_Alnd all at once, it leaves you breathless_

_With next to nothing but open hands,_

Castiel unclasped one of his hands from the mic and raised it up, as the crowd had done during his speech, and the rest of the crowd mimicked him.

_Reach out hold on tight._

He clenched his outstretched hand into a fist and pumped it to the beat and rhythm of the words he sang.

_I know it hurts but keep trying,_

_And with your luck, this won’t be over quick._

_Out of the blue, it strikes you._

He pounded his fist to his chest over his heart during that lyric.

_What’s left to catch but the fear of letting go?_

He pointed the microphone at the crowd, who echoed "the fear of letting go". Dean was mesmerized by the whole performance; he was in equal parts arousal, awe, and overwhelming pain. This was what he lost all those years ago. This is what he gave up, and this is what the once preacher's son had become. Regardless of their history, he was so incredibly proud of the Castiel and what he has built himself to be. That  _feeling_ started wriggling around in Dean's chest as he watched the man. That  _thing_ he hadn't felt since the last Kansas winter he had lived through. That  _thing_ that he didn't even really feel for Lisa...

_I'm biting down._

_The stress gets harder now._

_The mood is let down,_

Castiel walked the length of the stage as he sang, and  _holy shit_ , he was heading right towards Dean and his section.

_Let it play for the last time._

_Take this last second..._

Dean's section was going absolutely fucking crazy - but not crazy enough for him to intervene - as Castiel walked right up to them and leaned his back against the barricade. Hands were all over him as he kept singing, which totally didn't make Dean jealous. Castiel looked straight into his green eyes as he sang the relatively calm next verse.

_For once, don’t be so weak._

_Back up the feelings that you claim now._

_Fall deeper into a world_

_That you can’t explain._

Castiel broke away from the fans and walked straight up to Dean with a fierce expression, singing the angrier refrain of the lyric.

_For once don’t be so weak._

_I see the mistake and it’s you._

He shoved a finger into Dean's chest.

_Don’t try another line._

_I know the truth,_

_And let it save you when nothing else will._

_I will let it save you when nothing else will._

Castiel ran back out to center-stage, leaving Dean in a daze. Those words cut so deeply. He absentmindedly brought his hand up over his chest and clutched his shirt. Thankfully, the fans were too busy focusing on the band to notice his mini breakdown.

_The mood is let down,_

_Let it play for the last time,_

_Take this last second to know._

He made his way over to Samandriel and wraps his arm around his neck as the boy continued to play. They rocked in unison.

_We know who does it best._

_Wind is blowing through closed doors_

_With shadows dancing in the hall._

_Now hit the floor, crawl to the side._

_We've all made better moves_

_Despite the slowing of our feet._

_Let hate save you when nothing else will._

_I know the truth,_

He threw one last look at Dean, who was staring right back.

_And it won’t save you._

The crown erupted into a cacophony of cheers and screams.

"Fuck..." Dean whispered to himself.

. . .

The remaining songs of the set went by in the blink of an eye, or at least they seemed to, to Dean. After that fucking knife in the heart, he decided then and there that he was just going to face his section. Looking at that beautiful, talented creature did nothing but hurt, and don't even get him started on those lyrics.

Once the show was over, Dean followed the band off the stage from the stairway they came from. They quickly hopped onto the bus and drove out of the facility so fast, Dean almost thought they were going to hit 88mph and travel back to 1955. At least they avoided all fan mishaps or security breaches. Despite the sad mood Dean was in inside, he was proud of himself for completing his first gig as the Seraphs' bodyguard.

Apparently, they were on their way to New York next. The Seraphs had a shows in New York City, Boston, Albany, and Buffalo over the next five days. It blew Dean's mind how often bands had to perform, not just for traveling reasons, but for how strenuous it must be for their voices, hands, and whatever else gets tired while playing for four hours almost every day. The ride to the Big Apple was going to take about two hours, so Dean settled into the "kitchen" booth while the band toweled off and rowdily hugged each other, clearly still riding the high out from the show. They somehow dragged Chuck into the middle of their celebration, which Dean had to admit was hilarious.

Crowley poured drinks for everyone, including Dean. He lifted his tumbler and proposed a toast. "That was bloody incredible. Oh, and Castiel," he said and faced the lead singer, who was sitting on the couch with a lap full of Balthazar, "you fucking  _murdered_ pissed. I've never seen you sing it so well, mate."

Dean threw Samandriel a confused look, who answered by whispering "song title". Dean nodded, knowing exactly what song the drummer was referring to.

"Well," Castiel said, "I had plenty of inspiration." He looked at Dean and _winked_ , the fucker...

"Keep it going!" Crowley knocked his glass back and everyone followed suit.

Balthazar rose from Castiel's lap and led him down the narrow hall to the "bedroom". Dean gave the singer a cocky, _'I don't care that you're about to go fuck'_ smile, though his clenched fist told a different story.

Once they were gone, Gabriel and Crowley sat down on the couch and Dean turned to Samandriel. "So, what did Crowley mean by pissed?"

"Oh!" Samandriel exclaimed and put down his now refilled glass. "'The Past Should Stay Dead', P-S-S-D," he punctuated with his fingers. "Sounds like pissed, you know?"

"Ah," Dean snorted. " Well, that explains a lot," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Ten minutes later, the whole bus could hear Balthazar getting thoroughly fucked.

 _Can we just be in New York already?_ Dean thought as he tossed back another double.

. . .

They were (fucking finally) in the city. The pulled up to the St. Regis Hotel - which Dean actually recognized and almost gaped at - and hastily exited the behemoth of a bus. Chuck explained that his stuff would be brought up with the band's luggage. Thankfully, there was no paparazzi; it seemed that there never was when they arrived at hotels, only when they left them for a gig.

Dean was tired, he was angry, and he was hurt, so he didn't even care about his lavish surroundings. He just wanted to get to the suite, call Sam and Lisa, and have a smoke.

Yeah, he wanted a cigarette, sue him. He hadn't smoked in years, not since high school, but dammit, he needed one. After seeing Castiel smoke one earlier that morning, hearing that fucking song, and just being in this situation, Dean believed he deserved one despite the fact that he didn't deserve much of anything else. The only problem was he didn't have a pack of smokes, and he didn't feel like leaving the hotel to hunt one down... but he knew one person who  _did_ smoke, and his name rhymed with _Asstiel_. (Look, Dean thought it was funny, alright?)

Dean smiled to himself as they rode the elevator up to the presidential suite. The fact that Balthazar and Castiel stunk like sex and looked totally debauched made Dean want to steal the guys cigarettes even more.

The suite was humongous, as expected. The band sat in the living room and talked about the show tomorrow for tomorrow night while Dean hung back and waited for the bellhop to bring up everyone's luggage so he could intercept Castiel's smokes. There was a knock at the door and Dean opened it almost immediately. A cart with everyone's bags sat in front of the door. The bellhop was already walking away towards the elevator.

 _The perfect crime_ , Dean though to himself as he easily spotted Castiel's leather suitcase that had angel wings stitched onto it. He opened the front pocket and lo and behold, a half-pack of Marlboro Reds sat there just dying to be snatched up. He snagged the pack and put them in his back pocket before zipping the compartment back up. He wheeled the cart into the suite and told everyone their luggage had arrived. It was one in the morning by this point, so everyone got up and retrieve their things so they could retreat to their rooms and get a good night's rest. It honestly surprised Dean that these rockstars were going to bed so early... well, early for rockstars, anyway.

Dean grabbed his stuff and headed for the room closest to the door. Sadly, there was no balcony or anything off of his room, so he just tossed his bag on the bad, grabbed his beloved leather jacket - yes, the same brown leather jacket he had back in high school - and searched for the exit outside. Luckily, he avoided running into any of the Seraphs. Like the hotel back in Philadelphia, the balcony door was connected to the kitchen. He breathed in the cool, April air as he stepped outside. He walked over to the stone railing and looked out at the New York City landscape. Lights of all different colors, high and low seemed to surround him. Even though he wasn't a city person, he couldn't deny the beauty surrounding him.

Dean pulled out his phone and saw he had a message from Pam.

_Great job tonight, hot lips! ;-)_

He smiled at the text and shook his head. His thumb then hovered over the call button under Sam's number. He really didn't feel like talking right now, he just needed to chill out with a nice rush of nicotine, so he settled for texting both Sam and Lisa, telling them that the concert went well and that he'd call them tomorrow. He pocketed his phone and pulled out the pack of looted cigarettes. Thank fucking God Castiel stowed his lighter inside of it, or else Dean would be up shit's creek without a paddle.

Dean placed one of the sticks between his lips and lit the end of it, causing his face to briefly be illuminated by the small, orange glow. He took a long drag, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs. He could feel the rush of nicotine in his veins almost instantly. He exhaled the cloud slowly, feeling more relief the more smoke he saw in front of him. He tried to expel thoughts of Castiel with every drag, he really did, but he couldn't stop thinking about the guy, especially because he was smoking  _his_ cigarettes. The bastard's stupid lips probably tasted like the Red Dean was puffing on.

"Shit..." he mumbled to himself. He slumped his shoulders and flicked the ashes over the edge of the railing, falling like snow.

Dean was too caught up in his thoughts to hear the footsteps approaching him.

. . .

"Hey, Gabriel, have you seen my cigarettes?"

"Can't say that I have, Cassie."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Don't call me that."

"Whatever you say, Cassandra," Gabriel jeered as he walked towards his room.

Castiel let him go. It wasn't like Gabriel took his pack. Hell, it wasn't like any of the Seraphs did. He always found it odd that out of all of them, he was the only one who smoked. Isn't smoking some sort of rockstar staple or whatever? He knew he put his pack in his bag, and he's never had a bellhop steal anything from him, so where the hell was it? The only people that handled their luggage was Chuck, Martin, the bellhop, and...

 _Fucking really?_ He thought to himself.  _That asshole._

He stormed to Dean's room and banged on the door. No answer, so he walked around the suite searching for the thief. If Dean took his cigarettes, he was probably outside. Castiel headed toward the balcony and sure as shit, a leather-clad figure stood over by the far railing, a cloud of smoke above his head. Even from this distance, he recognized that old jacket. He remembered how it felt to have that jacket draped over his shoulders when he was cold or over his head when it rained...

Castiel's anger dissipated slightly; seeing that jacket transported him back to Kansas, the good parts of it. He quietly walked up behind Dean and rubbed his angel-sleeved arm both at the coolness of the air and at the nervousness he felt. Don't get him wrong, he was still incredibly infuriated with Dean and how he broke his heart, but deep, deep down, he knew there was a part of him that missed the green-eyed man no matter how hard he tried to mute it with angry lyrics or cover it up with tattoos. That was the truth, and there was no way in hell he'd ever tell Dean that. Dean made his choice a long time ago.

. . .

"You shouldn't smoke, you know."

Dean sputtered and coughed. He whirled around and his eyes bugged out as he saw Castiel standing there, but he speedily schooled his face and slipped into the cocky persona effortlessly.

"Yeah, well," he took another drag. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't do." Exhale. "Or  _have_ done." He knew it was childish to use Castiel's words against him, but he didn't give a single fuck. He needed the singer to really hate him after what he did, to say more hurtful things to him that he deserved to hear.

After a too long moment of just staring at each other with hard eyes, the singer spoke. "You stole my cigarettes."

"Oh, these?" Dean threw Castiel a Cheshire grin and took another mocking drag. "Silly me," he said, dripping with sarcasm.

Castiel crossed his arms and walked closer to Dean. "Give me one."

"Give me one, what?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Dean laughed and leaned back against the railing. He crossed his feet and took another puff. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"You look like _a lot_ of things," Castiel spat.

"Oooh, feisty."

"Shut the fuck up, assbutt. Give me one...  _please_."

Dean drew his eyebrows together. "Assbutt?"

"Just give me a fucking cigarette, Dean! They're mine anyway!"

"Love it when you say my name, baby." He flicked the butt at Castiel - who looked severely pissed - and pulled out the pack from his back pocket. He wasn't quite sure how in the hell he was being such an asshole so easily, but it was working; the blue-eyed man looked like he wanted to murder him.

Dean held an unlit cigarette out to Castiel, who looked at it skeptically. "Come on, I won't bite. You want it so bad? Take it."

Castiel reached out to take the stick, but Dean jerked his hand back and placed the filter between his smiling lips. The look on Castiel's face was absolutely priceless. He looked like a mixture between an angry little kid and a sad kitten, tattoos, gauges, and all. "Must you insist on being a thorn in my fucking side forever?"

Dean didn't show it, but that really hurt. He never wanted to be a thorn in Castiel's side. He never wanted to be anything but good for him and to him ever since he met him in their American literature class. He really fucked Castiel up, he knew he did, and it tore him up inside more than he'd ever admit. "Why do you think I took the job?"

It was a total lie; Dean had no idea Castiel was the lead singer of the Seraphs when he applied, but he knew it'd piss the singer off. For some reason, Castiel looked like he'd done something wrong. He was looking down at his feet and his shoulders slumped a bit. Dean didn't know what that was about and he didn't ask even though he so desperately wanted to. "Can I please just have a cigarette, Dean? You can keep the pack."

Dean's mouth would've dropped open if he didn't have a cigarette to hold in place. Was Castiel accepting defeat... for a cigarette? How the times had changed. Never in a million years would Dean have thought Zachariah and Naomi Novak's son would become the binary opposite of who they raised him as. Nonetheless, Dean still liked him.

"Uh, sure." Dean removed the cigarette from his lips and handed it to Castiel as a sort of test. Part of him wanted Castiel to be repulsed by the idea and demand a fresh one because that would mean he really did hate him, but another part of him  _needed_ Castiel to take the one he was offering him, the one that his lips were wrapped around.

Castiel hesitantly reached out and took it, to Dean's surprise. "Lighter?"

Dean nodded and took out the lighter, controlling the tremor in his hand as he did so. Before he could think about what he was doing, he stepped closer to Castiel so they were less than a foot apart and lit his cigarette. Blue eyes met green as Castiel inhaled, all hints of anger were gone. Dean's eyes trailed down Castiel's face on their own accord and stopped roaming once they landed upon the necklace around his neck that glinted in the city lights. It was a silver chain with a silver ring as a pendant, the twin ring that's been haunting Dean's dreams.

"I-Is that... ?"

Castiel looked confused for second as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips. When he exhaled, panic appeared in his eyes and his free hand reached up and grabbed the necklace, shielding it from Dean's sight. "No... I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

The singer shook his head and took another drag, hiding his face from Dean. "I should go back inside. Thanks for the-"

"Cas, look at me." Dean said with a tenderness Castiel missed hearing. He looked up, still gripping the necklace. "Why do you still have the ring I gave you?"

"I-"

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen opened. "There you are, darling," Balthazar said. "Come on, let's go to bed, yeah?"

Castiel's whole demeanor changed upon the bassist's arrival. For a second, Dean actually thought he was getting through to him, that maybe there was a sliver of hope for them, but that all came crashing down. Castiel straightened and yanked the necklace off himself, the chain be damned, and dropped it at Dean's feet. "Coming!"

He scampered back into the suite with his blond boy toy, leaving Dean outside alone, who was frozen where he stood for a solid thirty seconds before he bent down and picked up the jewelry. It felt so heavy to him, or maybe that was the guilt. Whatever it was, it hurt and he didn't like it. At least Castiel gifted him the cigarettes.

He stayed outside and chain-smoked until there wasn't anything left besides him, his thoughts, and the memories of a cerulean-eyed boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm alive! I'm sorry for not updating in so long. I've been in a sort of depressed funk lately... a longer one than I usually have. It's hard to find any motivation to do anything - let alone write - when you feel that way, you know? Again, I'm sorry. Harass me the next time I go on radio silence, okay? I wanted to thank you for reading. It really means a lot to me, especially now... You're amazing.
> 
> "The Past Should Stay Dead" - Emarosa  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0fCXsles90


	7. Chapter 7

The Madison Square Garden show was amazing, at least for the 18,200 fans. Dean, on the other hand, felt like flinging himself into the crowd during the entire show and just letting them have at him like the pack of wild animals that they were. Naturally, the set was ten times more angry than the show back in New Jersey. Dean knew that must've had something to do with his and Castiel's little confrontation on the balcony at the hotel the night before, especially with the songs on the set list. Every lyric that poured out of the Seraph's front man's beautiful mouth cut Dean like razor blades. Each chorus was a refrain of the mistake he made.

Sweat-drenched and blood pumping, Castiel was on fire onstage. His emotion permeated the air and electrified the crowd. At the Garden, Dean didn't have a section of cherubs - which he learned was what the fans called themselves - to guard, so he manned the left side of the stage while Benny covered the right and the rest of the guys surrounded the platform. The fact that Dean didn't have to be as watchful as he did when he had people closer to the band to actively secure, he was able to listen to the performance without much distraction. Unfortunately, that meant Dean got the full force of the hatred and malice that bellowed out of the singer.

Castiel sidled up to the infamous, red-taped microphone and clasped it between his angel and demon hands.

_Chatter, no self-esteem_

_Preserving me, could not believe_

_The way that you have treated me,_

_So you convinced yourself of your own worth._

_Dying inside, waiting for rebirth._

_You know I'm gone, so far gone._

The singer unhooked the mic from the stand and walked down the catwalk as he sang the chorus. The cherubs sang along with their beloved Seraph.

_You said, you said I'm haunting you,_

_I can see it in your eyes._

_Our hearts were one,_

_But after some time_

_Demolished by your fiction of love._

_You said I'm haunting you._

_You lied and lied again,_

_Deceiving your lover,_

_Your best friend._

_This will never be me again._

Castiel used the short break between the chorus and the verse to reach down and grab fans' hands and made a few people swoon so hard, they fainted. Despite the obvious jab at Dean embedded into the song and the guilt he felt, he was still amused by this action. Castiel stood back up and sang the next verse.

_Suppressed by the need to chance_

_And waiting._

_Maybe waiting's not working out,_

_Maybe it's time to turn around_

Castiel turned around.

_And finally walk, walk, walk on the ground,_

The singer walked back up the catwalk to the main stage as he sang the line.

_'Cause you know who you are._

Even though Castiel was a little far from Dean at that moment, the bodyguard could tell the singer's eyes flicked in his direction. Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat and recrossed his arms.

_Dying inside, waiting for rebirth._

_You know I'm gone, I'm so far gone,_

_So far gone, so far gone._

At the downbeat, all the band members head-banged down in-sync. 

_You said, you said I'm haunting you,_

_I can see it in your eyes._

_Our hearts were one,_

_But after some time_

_Demolished by your fiction of love._

_You said I'm haunting you._

_You lied and lied again,_

_Deceiving your lover,_

_Your best friend._

_This will never be it 'til the end._

The music slowed, and the only instrument playing alongside Castiel's voice was Gabriel's guitar, which Ed was filming as the man's hands strummed the silver strings. Castiel's head was thrown back, the microphone pointing towards the sky with his eyes closed as he sang.

_Dying inside,_

_Dying inside,_

_Dying inside,_

_Dying inside._

Castiel opened his eyes and dropped to his knees. Dean could see Harry get down to the singer's level to get a good shot.

_Your cries hold strong through the night._

_I'm on my knees, begging with all my might._

Samandriel and Balthazar sang the "dying inside" line behind the echo of Castiel's reverberating voice.

_Your cries hold strong through the night._

_Tell me now I'm gonna win this fight._

Castiel quickly stood and stormed to Dean's side of the stage as he sang the chorus, coming close to him and spitting the words directly into his face. Dean tried to remain stoic by looking out into the crowd, but he clenched his jaw, which gave him away. He could practically smell the adrenaline that oozed out of every pore from the other man. 

_You said I'm haunting you,_

_I can see it in your eyes._

Castiel's sweaty chest grazed Dean's arm, and God help him, he couldn't stop himself from tearing his eyes away from his post and looking into murderous, blue eyes. The vein on the side of Castiel's neck throbbed and his eyes hardened upon meeting Dean's.

_Our hearts were one,_

_But after some time_

_Demolished by your fiction of love._

_You said I'm haunting you._

_You lied and lied again,_

_Deceiving your lover,_

_Your best friend._

_This will never be me again._

Castiel spat at the guard's feet and shoved him before he spun around and ran back to center stage where he repeated the chorus until the song ended.

Needless to say, it was a horrible night to be named Dean.

Dean wasn't an idiot, at least about some things. He knew that there was more to Castiel than the singer led on. A small part of him believed that maybe Castiel still felt something for him after all the hurt he must've put him through all those years ago, but he didn't entertain that thought a whole lot.

Dean didn't deserve to have someone like Castiel - a famous, talented and insanely beautiful rockstar - feel anything good for him, not after what he did. Hell, if he were in Castiel's shoes, he'd hate him, too.

So, Dean just let Castiel's bitter words sink in during the MSG performance. Honestly, he'd never heard any other singers put as much emotion into their voice as Castiel did. He always found himself equal parts sad and impressed (and honestly aroused) whenever he heard the man sing. Castiel's anger was almost tangible that night in the Big Apple.

Boston's TD Garden show went pretty much the same way. It was there that Dean noticed he picked up the habit of squeezing the ring with the broken chain looped through it, which he kept in the right front pocket of his jeans. The thick band would dig into his palm and even hurt him if he squeezed hard enough, but Dean didn't care. Part of him did it to hurt himself, and another part of him clasped onto the metal to remind himself that what he and Castiel once had was real. Either way, it hurt.

After the Massachusetts show, Dean and the band piled onto the tour bus and made their way to Albany. As usual, Castiel and Balthazar occupied the bedroom and insisted on reminding  _everyone_ of the fact. Dean took his usual seat at the booth with Samandriel. Chuck sat co-pilot to Martin, and Crowley and Gabriel sat on the couch. Gabriel gave Dean more dagger eyes than he normally did following the NYC show. Dean didn't blame him.

The bus pulled up to the Renaissance Hotel in the New York capital around two-thirty in the morning. The presidential suite was a little more modern than the other places they'd stayed at, which was ironic considering the name of the joint. Sleek, black-and-white furnishings and clean lines made the space feel more sterile than anything. The only real indicator that this suite wasn't a dwelling for cyborgs was the baby grand piano that sat next to the fireplace. Everyone knew cyborgs had no capacity for creativity. Dean smirked to himself as he thought about the Terminator trying to play some Beethoven piece with as much emotion as someone like Castiel probably could.

 _Dammit,_ Dean cursed himself for thinking about the guy... again.

To avoid any and all interactions with Castiel, Dean retreated to his room and locked the door behind him. He felt emotionally drained since NYC and just needed some time alone. Well, not completely alone. He was calling Sam, who picked up on the first ring, despite the fact that it was almost midnight in California. He just needed to hear his brother's voice. He missed the sasquatch.

"Dean?"

"Heya, Sammy." Dean smiled a little and sat down on the edge of his bed. He looked out the window into the dark night as he spoke. "How are ya?"

"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you though."

"And why's that?"

"Because you said you were going to call me yesterday and never did." Sam was quiet for a moment. "Plus, I heard the Seraphs played a great show at the Garden... a very  _angry_ show."

Dean looked down at the carpet. "You heard about that, huh?"

"Yeah, Jess has been following the fan blog on their site."

"Honestly, I never took Jess as the fangirl type. How is she? How's Bones?"

"Dean," Sam sighed, "stop trying to change the subject. What did you do?"

"Sammy, I'm offended you would think that  _I_ did something wrong." Dean could practically hear his brother's bitchface through the phone.

"Just tell me what happened. I assumed the fact the Seraphs played an angry show  _and_ the fact that you didn't call me were somehow related."

"Alright, fine." Dean rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Cas is pissed at me, obviously, has been for a while now..."

"Hm," Sam hummed.

"What?"

"Nothing, go on."

"Okay, well, he has good reason to, you know? I don't know what else you want me to tell you." Dean avoided saying anything about the ring incident. He  _really_ didn't want to open that can of worms, especially to his brother.

Sam sighed into the receiver. "I can tell I'm not going to get anything out of you because, as Jess says, you're emotionally constipated."

"Hey!"

" _But_ _,_ " he continued, "I have to say one thing."

Dean waited a couple of seconds. "Jesus, spit it out, Samantha. You're burnin' daylight here."

"Cas wouldn't be angry if he didn't care."

And that was exactly the last thing Dean wanted to hear. Sure, part of him thought the same thing, but to have someone else think it and validate it eliminated the possibility of him being wrong and he wanted to be wrong. If Castiel truly did care or still feel something for the older Winchester, that could jeopardize Dean's mission to ensure the singer hated him, which he deserved.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Dean?"

Sam's voice brought Dean out of his head. "Why would you tell me that? You know I have Lisa."

"Dean, you know how I feel about her..."

Sam didn't care too much for Lisa, Dean knew that. He thought that she wasn't right for him and found it odd that they moved in together after dating for less than a year. Honestly, Dean understood where Sam was coming from and why he believed what he did. He cares about Lisa, sure, but truly and irrevocably love? He'd rather plead the Fifth on that one.

"You'd have to be brain dead to believe Cas didn't still care about you." Sam's matter-of-fact voice filtered through the phone.

"But-" Before Dean could respond, a familiar female voice came over the line.

"No, just listen, Dean." He closed his mouth and let Jess speak. "I want you to really listen to his lyrics. Listen to what's underneath all the anger. You might be surprised with what you find."

Dean nodded as if she could see him. "Whatever you say, Jess."

"Quit being a jackass and do as I say."

"Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No, but I do some things to your brother with it."

"Ew, okay, I'm gonna hang up now. Thanks for that one, perv."

"You're welcome."

Jess hung up. Dean sighed and settled for texting Lisa considering the time. She texted him back immediately. It was a bit odd that she was up so late, but she seemed happy, so he didn't question it. He threw his phone on the bed and grabbed his cigarettes from his duffel bag, which he bought from a little kiosk outside of the Boston venue. As much satisfaction he felt from stealing Castiel's pack, he didn't want to be around the singer right now, not while the man was this angry. Normally, he would roam the suite and look for the exit to the balcony, but if he did that, he would risk the chance of running into the Ghost of Kansas Past. So, he sat down next to the open window and decided to smoke there.

 _Listen to what's underneath all the anger_ _._ Jess's voice echoed in Dean's head. 

Only the show tomorrow night would tell.

. . .

"Cassie," Gabriel called, "would you just talk to me?!"

Samandriel, Crowley, and Balthazar were drinking and messing around on the piano. Castiel was halfway up the stairs to the master bedroom when he heard his best friend yell for him. "I don't have anything to say, Gabriel."

"I've never been near a bull, but I know what its shit smells like."

Castiel continued up the steps to his room and Gabriel followed him. He could see that he wasn't going to shake the guitarist off anytime soon. Gabriel closed the shiny, black door behind him once they were both inside. Castiel walked over to the small bar on the left wall and poured himself and Gabriel a gin and tonic. He stretched his demon-sleeved arm out to the shorter man, encouraging him to take the drink. Gabriel looked at him with a concerned expression, which usually deviated from his carefree, fun-loving attitude.

"Are you going to take the drink or not?"

"Not if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Castiel sighed. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean." Castiel knew Gabriel spoke those words, but all he could hear was Dean's voice back in NYC when he asked about the ring.

"You know what? Fine!" Castiel yelled. He knocked back his drink in one go and slammed it down on the marble bar. "You want to know what's going on? Well, I'm having a pretty fucking rough time dealing with the fact that my ex-boyfriend, the only fucking guy I've _ever_ loved, is  _living_ with us! I didn't even think it was going to happen, but here we fucking are! It's my fault he's here. All because I couldn't stop this stupid fucking ache," he punched over his heart. He couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes from brimming over.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey," Gabriel placed his hands up in attempt to calm his best friend down. He'd never seen Castiel like that. "Just take a breath, alright?" The singer closed his eyes tightly and nodded. "Now, let's just sit down and talk, okay?"

Castiel nodded again and took a seat on the edge of his California king bed. "I'm going to make you another drink and one for myself while I'm at it." Gabriel said as he walked over to the bar. "I have a feeling we're both going to need it." After making the drinks, he handed one to Castiel and sat next to him on the bed. "First thing's first, what do you mean it's your fault he's here?"

The singer took a sip of his drink before speaking, not looking over at the other man. "I-I sent...  _God_ _,_ you're going to think I'm so pathetic. I found out Dean was living in South Dakota from an old friend back in Kansas, so I..." He paused to take another drink. "I sent a want-ad out to every single paper in the state hoping that... that maybe, just maybe, he would see it."

Gabriel took a swig and nodded in understanding and let his friend continue. "I was pretty drunk and upset when I came up with the brilliant idea, but I figured what could it hurt? I-I thought that if there was any chance for something,  _anything_ , then he'd see the ad and maybe take the job... that he'd find his way back to me."

It upset Gabriel how somber Castiel sounded, but he understood nonetheless, even if he thought Dean was a piece of manure. "So, how do you feel now that he's here?"

"What do you think? He has a girlfriend, _who he lives with_. He's just here to spite me. He's obviously moved on." Castiel finished the rest of his second drink and placed the tumbler on the floor before looking at Gabriel with shiny eyes. "Why can't I though? Why can't I move on? It's been years, Gabriel.  _Years_."

Gabriel copied Castiel and downed the rest of his drink. "Look, I'm not exactly Team Dean here, but I know where you're coming from."

"Because of Kali?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You can't move on because that time meant something to you, like little Willy Wonka remembering the first piece of candy he ever had."

"I'm not following. You have an unhealthy sweet tooth by the way."

"We'll deal with _that_ atrocity later. I'm saying that it's okay to not move on. It's okay to want to remember." Gabriel watched Castiel tilt his head in confusion. "If that time made you happy, hold onto it. It might hurt sometimes, but it's what got you where you are, Cassie. It's part of your identity, and there's no reason to be ashamed of it or regret it."

"I just don't understand why I set myself up for this kind of pain." Castiel shook his head and dropped his gaze to his tattooed hands.

"Hope."

"I guess. Fuck, I'm a masochist."

"Maybe, but at least you're smokin' hot." Gabriel teased and nudged Castiel's ribs.

"You're an ignoramus." Castiel smiled slightly. "I'm sorry for my outburst."

"It's whatever. You're a rockstar, you deserve to Hulk-out every once in a while. Gotta keep up the diva image."

Castiel rolled his eyes and stood from the bed, taking the glasses with him to the bar. Gabriel watched his best friend wash the glasses in the tiny sink. For a rockstar, the man was such a neat freak. "You want him back, don't you?" He said quietly.

"What?"

Gabriel walked closer to the bar. "You want to Noah and Allie his ass, don't you?"

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"You're hopeless. Anyway, I'm saying that you should try and win him back, with my help of course."

"What happened to the whole 'make him angry by fucking with him' plan you so eloquently devised?"

"You can still execute parts of that flawlessly constructed plan, my amigo, but now you need to start playing hard-to-get."

Castiel walked back over to his bed and sat down. "And how do you know Dean would even want to 'get' me, genius?"

"Are you blind or just dumb? That green-eyed, hunky douche has been eyeing you like a piece of meat on a hook since New Jersey."

"If you say so."

"We're gonna  _Notebook_ this bitch."

. . .

On the way to the show, Dean noticed - much to his delight - that Castiel and Balthazar weren't attached from hips-to-lips. It was a little strange and out-of-character, but he was still grateful, especially after the ringer the front man put him through over the past two shows.

Dean thought the Palace Performing Arts Center in Albany was an unusual venue to have a rock concert considering it was literally a theatre, intricate molding, chandeliers and all. The place held less than 3,000 people, which was unusual compared to the Seraphs' usual gigs. Chuck explained to Dean that they always play at the Palace whenever they go on an American tour because Samandriel was from the area, and that the band enjoyed throwing in at least three smaller venues to add more diversity to their routine.

Backstage of the theatre was a little cramped with all the bodies running around. At one point, Charlie ran by Dean on her way upstairs to the controls HQ.

"Think Spock will heckle you again tonight, Kirk?"

Dean gave her a confused look as though he had no idea what she was talking about, but the blush that tinged his ears betrayed him. He bowed his head and chuckled. "Whatever you say, Sulu." Charlie scampered off, the headset around her neck jiggled. Dean really liked her. They would talk briefly whenever they had some time to kill before the show, so she knew the highlights of his and Castiel's past.

Soon after, Benny and Pamela walked up to him and told him the setup for guarding was essentially the same as the other shows they'd done, just one a smaller scale. Benny clasped him on the shoulder before he walked to his post. "Take it easy, brotha."

Dean smiled after the southerner and turned his eyes back to his leather-clad boss. "Pamela."

"Dean," she smiled back. "Just to let you know, your check will be deposited into your account after the Buffalo show tomorrow night."

"Sweet, thanks."

"How are you liking the job so far?"

"It's been a hell of an experience," he responded with a small laugh. It wasn't a lie. It really  _was_ quite of an experience running into your now famous ex-boyfriend that you dumped - no, abandoned - your senior year of high school. Although, aside from the awkwardness, pain, and tension that occurred because of the whole Castiel thing, he really did like the job.

Pamela grabbed his arm. "Good, I'm glad." She stood on her tip-toes to reach his ear. "Gotta keep my boys happy." Dean blushed and shook his head. Pamela was such a flirt. She threw an amused laugh over her shoulder as she walked away.

At that moment, Roy came in over Dean's radio. "I know you got a lady, but she's a tiger in the sack. Just thought you should know."

Dean raised his head above the people that were running around backstage. He saw Roy, who gave him a goofy wave, and promptly laughed at him before flipping him off and radioing the man back. "You're a dumb ass."

"Places, fellas," Benny's voice interrupted Dean and Roy's banter. They both took the stage and stood in their places.

That time, Dean was on the right side of the stage. The red, velvet seats of the theatre were beginning to fill in. It was such a strange contrast to see; rockers dressed in black with piercings, tattoos, and honestly bitchin' hair looked out of place in the decadence of the Palace. After looking at the crowd, he looked out onto the stage and saw a piano sitting in the middle of it. It was the first time he saw the instrument onstage, and a twinge of nervousness formed in his gut when he realized Castiel would probably be the one playing it. He hadn't seen the man play the piano since...

 _No_ _,_ Dean thought.  _Not right now._ He avoided thoughts of the past. Lord knows he did enough of that at the NYC and Boston shows when Castiel made it his mission in life to make the bodyguard's life hell. In all honesty, he was afraid of what tonight's show was going to hold for him.

The house lights dimmed and the crowd roared upon the appearance of the Seraphs running out onto the stage.

Crowley took his rightful place behind the drumset as Gabriel, Samandriel, and Balthazar stood quietly along the stage. Castiel, however, took a new place. Rather than standing behind the red mic, he sat down on the piano bench, clad in black skinny jeans and a black, short-sleeved button-down with a blue tie. It was the most dressed up Dean had seen the man since Kansas. He swallowed memories down as Castiel began to play, which was odd considering he usually had an opening statement.

The song opened with Castiel's hands dancing over the keys. From Dean's position, he could see the singer's face from above the instrument. A best before Castiel sang, the rest of the band joined in with a harmonic rhythm that still showcased the piano with the soothing melody.

_Back and forth we always go,_

_Following the light_

_Over these broken cobblestones I call my life._

_Tell me, who's to blame?_

_And how many of you feel ashamed_

Castiel's eyes briefly found Dean's before closing.

_To say you turned your back in style?_

Gabriel and Samandriel sang part of the piano's melody softly in the background behind Castiel's voice.

_I can't wait..._

_It's your body taking over me._

_And I can'twait..._

_It's your body taking over me._

"It's only the first song and people are already making out with each other, what the fuck?" Dean heard Jake over his radio.

Listening to the song, Dean could understand why this tune was making people horny. It was very sensual, but in a romantic, longing way. It was even more seductive to him considering he'd had sex with the guy singing the song. Dean's dick twitched at the memory, though he willed his body to calm down. He didn't have the right to touch Castiel like that anymore.

_How did he get in my head?_

_How did_   _he_ ,Castiel's eyes reopened and locked onto Dean's,  _get in my head?_

To make things worse, Castiel threw his head back, letting his face bask in the white light, as he slowly gyrated his hips as he sat on the bench. Dean couldn't stop his blood from rushing south.

_Movements that shake the earth,_

_Somehow it feels so perfect,_

_Surrounded by this madness._

_It keeps floating around my head,_

_Inside, inside, inside, inside._

Each repeat was accentuated by a roll of Castiel's hips. Damn, he knew how to preform...  _both musically **and** sexually, _Dean thought to himself as he subconsciously bit his lip.

_I can't wait..._

_It's your body taking over me._

_And I can't wait..._

_He's taking over me._

_I can't wait..._

_It's your body taking over me,_

_I can't wait..._

_It's your body taking over me._

The song ended and the crowd cheered. Castiel stood and stepped slightly away from the piano so he could face them. From that angle, Dean could see the hint of a bulge in the singer's skinny jeans.

_"Fuck..."_

. . .

Aside from sporting a semi all night, Dean really enjoyed the show. He was surprised that the anger from the past two shows didn't leave some sort of residual residue on that night's performance. Part of him was relieved for that, but the another wanted the pain he so rightfully deserved.

Back on the tour bus and on their way to Buffalo, Dean was yet again surprised by the fact that Castiel and Balthazar didn't have a romp in the back like they always did after a show.

This time, Castiel sat in the chair across from the couch and Balthazar squeezed in with Crowley and Gabriel; Dean and Samandriel took their usual seats at the booth. It was a little cramped with everyone in the sitting area, but not unpleasant.

Dean and Samandriel were in the middle of talking about Buffalo when Gabriel spoke up. "Dean-o! What'd you think of the show?"

The rest of the band turned to face him, including Castiel. Dean felt a little cornered and caught a little off-guard (no pun intended) when the guitarist questioned him. "Um..." he dropped his face to his hands that laid on the table. "I, uh," he coughed in attempt to hide his nervousness. There was no way he could say what he really felt, how Castiel's sensual performance really got him going. "I thought it was great. Best one yet."

"Yeah?" Crowley said. "Which part did you like the most, mate?"

Dean didn't see it, but Gabriel shot Castiel a knowing smile and exaggerated wag of the eyebrows. Castiel rolled his eyes. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he desperately awaited the guard's answer.

"I-I liked the first song a lot."

"I bet you did," Gabriel said under his breath. Castiel punched his arm. "Ow! I mean... the crowd loves that one. Drives the ladies  _wild_... and the fellas," he said with a wink at Dean. Castiel punched him in the arm again while Dean tried to hide his blush. "Geez!" He rubbed his bicep. "I didn't sign up for this kind of abuse!"

The band howled in laughter. Dean looked up to see them all laughing with the exception of Castiel, who was staring straight at him with a glint of lust in his eyes.

 _Son-of-a-bitch,_ Dean thought as those blue orbs bore into him. It was going to be a long ride to Buffalo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First song:  
> "Running Through the !6! with My Soul" - Slaves https://youtu.be/p-H-uUweM0M
> 
> Second song:  
> "I've Been Hearing That You're Freaky" - Jonny Craig https://youtu.be/6DMPYZ5TTXw
> 
> I like to keep Castiel's voice and the Seraphs' sound consistent, so I've only been using songs/bands that have Jonny Craig on vocals (with the exception of the Fleetwood Mac song I used earlier, of course). His voice is actual sex. Fight me.
> 
> I hope y'all are enjoying so far! The dam is about to break for these two in love idiots, but can they survive the flood? *dramatic music plays* I'm sorry, that was super cheesy. Forgive me.
> 
> Band camp ends tomorrow and classes of my senior year of college start Monday. WHAT IS LIFE?! HOW DO I ADULT?!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with my infrequent updating and shit. I love y'all and really appreciate the support.
> 
> Feel free to drop a comment! :-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some smut... FINALLY.

Dean was right. the four hour drive to Buffalo went by far too slowly.

During the ride, the band mostly talked about their next set list and how excited they were to have the day off after tomorrow night. Really, it was just going to be a day of traveling since they had to drive eight hours to Virginia for the Charlottesville gig. Still, the Seraphs deserved a little rest and honestly, so did Dean. Being a bodyguard for a band was cool and all, but it was exhausting because of all the traveling and, in Dean's case, the emotional stress he was subjected to.

So, as the band talked and drank, Dean - for the most part - sat quietly to himself in the booth next to Samandriel. Much to his dismay, there was also plenty of awkward eye-contact between him and Castiel. It was strange considering how Castiel usually tried to act like Dean didn't exist. Dean did his best to ignore the way his stomach flipped every time it would happen by looking down or playing Word Crack against Sam on his phone, but he decided that wasn't the best idea after he saw that Sam made it his mission to find words like 'love', 'singer', and 'feelings'... the bastard.

It was well into the night when the bus finally pulled up to the Hyatt Regency. Ignoring his training, Dean was the first one up to the room. He needed to get the hell out of that bus and fix himself a stronger drink and smoke a cigarette as soon as humanly possible. No one else really noticed or cared about his haste.

The penthouse of the Regency was smaller than usual, but Dean still got his own room off to the side of the main door. Thankfully, there was a large balcony connected to it so he could drink and smoke in peace. Most of the Seraphs decided to go to bed upon entering the suite; the show and all the drinking and carrying on they did on the bus was finally hitting them.

Dean closed the door to his room. He deposited the duffel onto his bed and opened the mini fridge in his room, which held tiny bottles of alcohol. He grabbed three of the whiskeys and his pack of Reds and headed out onto the balcony. It was a bit breezy outside, but at least it wasn't chilly. He noticed that the balcony extended along the building and curved around at the corner, but he didn't really feel like exploring, so he sat down in the blue patio chair that overlooked the city. He downed the first and second little bottles before he took out his pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. Sadly, he was digging around in his pockets for his lighter with no luck.

. . .

"Aw, but can't I stay with you, Cassie?"

"Go to bed, Balthazar," Castiel commanded. He was on his way to his bedroom when the bassist caught up to him.

"I can make it worth your while." Balthazar smiled and tried to wrap his arms around the singer's waist, which he spun out of.

"I'm beat and we should get some rest. In our own rooms," Castiel added.

"Alright, but you know where to find me if you," Balthazar eyed him up-and-down hungrily, "can't sleep."

Castiel nodded and retreated into his room. He quickly locked the door behind him and let out a heavy sigh. He needed a cigarette. On the other side of his room was a door that led out to the balcony. He was thankful to have it connected to his room so he wouldn't have to face Balthazar again. It's not that he didn't like him or anything, he just couldn't find it in him to fool around with the Brit after he and Gabriel talked about, as the guitarist called it, "Plan Sparks" for  _The Notebook_.

Castiel stripped out of his jeans and put on his favorite pajama pants, which had a bunch of little cartoon bees all over them and their dotted flight paths. The guys in the band always made fun of him for wearing them, but he didn't give a shit. He wanted to be comfortable right now, and dammit, he would be. Plus, it's not like anyone was going to see him.

He grabbed his cigarettes and his guitar and walked out into the cool Buffalo night. He shut the door behind him and took a look over the edge of the balcony. The city was beautiful, undeniably so. It was a lot smaller than NYC and he admired its modesty. Looking to his left, he saw that the balcony extended around the corner. Curiosity got the better of him, so he followed it.

Taking a drag and turning the corner, Castiel's eyes fell upon a familiar figure sitting in one of the patio chairs.

. . .

"Need a light?" A deep, rumble of a voice sounded from behind Dean. He jumped a little at the sound and whipped his head around to see none other than Castiel in... Dean drew his eyebrows together.

"Dude, are those bee pj's? What are you, eight?"

"Fuck off," Castiel responded. Normally, that'd make him sound tough with his heavily inked arms, guitar, and general rock star appearance, but the pajamas really shattered that image. Dean tried not to smile at how utterly freaking adorable the other man looked. He knew the singer loved bees. "I guess you don't need my lighter then." Castiel turned as if he was going to walk away.

"Wait!" Dean called out. Castiel turned around and looked his bodyguard in the eyes with a triumphant smile spreading over his face. He waited for Dean to continue, who looked down to his feet. "'M'Sorry for making fun of your pants." He rubbed the back of his neck. "They're cute."  _Fuck, I shouldn't have said that,_ Dean scolded himself. He had a good buzz going.

"Aw, you think I'm cute?" Castiel teased as he stood in front of Dean with the guitar resting between his feet and held out his hand. He flicked the lighter and waited for Dean to light his cigarette. As he brought the end of it to the flame, their glowing orange eyes met. Dean pulled away before it could get more awkward.

"Uh, thanks," he said around a mouthful of smoke.

Castiel nodded and leaned against the railing in front of Dean. He took another drag of his cigarette. "So," he exhaled, "you liked the show?"

Dean gulped but quickly tried to hide it behind a fake cough. He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wide. Because Castiel was directly in front of him and standing somewhat in between his legs, he saw how the singer's eyes dropped down to his lap and darkened before moving back up to his face. "It was alright," he said with a cocky smile.  _Come on,_ Dean thought.  _Be an asshole, man. Stick with it._

"Oh, really?"

"Were you expectin' something else?"

"Well, you said you liked it on the bus." Castiel took another puff before flicking the filter over the edge. "Especially the first song."

Dean ran a slightly sweaty hand down his thigh to help ease the nervousness that threatened to crumble his jerk front. "Yeah, I guess. I saw some pretty hot chicks in the crowd getting all hot and heavy because of it."

Castiel's jaw clenched a little. "Oh, that's right," he purposefully scratched his stomach and allowed his shirt to ride up a little. He took satisfaction in seeing Dean's eyes trace the movement. "You're mostly into girls now."

"Mhm," the guard mumbled and dropped his eyes to the last little whiskey bottle that sat between his legs. He grabbed it and opened it.

"How's your _girlfriend_ by the way? What was her name? Leslie? Laura?"

"Lisa," Dean whispered.

"That's right, Lisa. Silly me," Castiel sarcastically chuckled. "How could I forget?"

Dean was about to bring the whiskey to his lips before he felt a hand reach around his own. He looked down to see Castiel's angel-inked hand covering his, stopping him from drinking. He looked up at the singer in confusion.

"Now, Dean," Castiel said as he pushed the drink back down towards the man's lap. "I asked you a question. It'd be rude to do that before you've answered me." He glanced at the small glass bottle.

"She's fine," he spat. He yanked his hand away from Castiel's grasp and quickly downed the whiskey.

As he did that, Castiel lit up another cigarette before sitting down with the black guitar in a playing position. "Tell me about her," he all but growled as the smoke filled his lungs. He obviously didn't want to know anything about the woman. He was just trying to see if he could get a rise out of the man sitting in front of him.

"Why?" His voice hardened.

"Touchy."

Castiel put the cigarette between is lips and held it there as his focus and hands moved to the guitar. He pulled a green pick out of somewhere and began tuning the instrument.

Dean felt a pang of nervousness wash over him as he heard faint notes sounding from the guitar. He brought the whiskey back up to his lips and downed it in hopes of mustering up more courage and control over his nerves. He placed the empty little bottle down by the side of his chair. Dean watched Castiel as he continued to tune the instrument as if Dean wasn't there. Without thinking, Dean spoke up.

"Play me somethin', Cas."

Castiel stilled his movements and brought his eyes up to Dean's slightly glassy ones. He removed the cigarette from his lips and put it out on the concrete next to him.

"What?"

"Uh, I-" Dean stammered. He didn't mean to ask Castel to play something for him. That was the buzz talking. He wasn't supposed to have moments like this with Castiel, not anymore... but to hell with it, at least for tonight. "Play me something."

Castiel stared at him, equal parts surprised and guarded before he added, "Please?" Castiel nodded, closed his eyes, and began to strum.

The notes the dark-haired man could conjure from the guitar mesmerized Dean. He'd never seen Castiel play guitar before, just piano. He wondered when the man picked up the skill.

_The further I go,_

_The further you get away_

_From who we really are._

Dean involuntarily parted his lips and inhaled a sharp breath. Castiel's voice was one of pure beauty. Heaven laced his vocal chords, Dean was sure of it.

_I chose a different route,_

_A different path in life_

_Praised by many, yet still_

_Labeled an outcast._

Dean pondered the lyrics. Castiel really did choose a different path from that his devout parents had planned for him. He was supposed to go into the family business, become a pastor, and the rest would be history, but instead he became this famous musician that spoke to the masses on a more relatable level than any church could offer.

_The things that last_

_Never happen overnight._

_These calloused hands_

_Built the foundation of my life._

Dean looked at the man's hands that clasped the neck of the old guitar and strummed its strings. He thought it interesting how the demon-sleeved hand decided the chords while the angel appendage kept the tempo. Without the unity of these two extremes, of Heaven and Hell, this beautiful music couldn't be created. Both were needed to create harmony.

_Abandoned for love,_

_Left with no advice_

_How quickly we change overnight._

_Make me out to be the bad guy._

_How long can I wear the blame?_

_Sick of feeling wrong,_

_Why do they judge me all the same?_

Dean didn't think Castiel was the bad guy, never did. If anything  _he_ was the bad guy. He hurt this man, this magnificent, talented, gorgeous human being that sat before him in honeybee pj's and a cigarette behind his gauged ear.

_Nobody's perfect._

_Trying to justify myself_ _to the ones_

_Who will never, never understand._

_Who will never._

Dean wanted to understand. He wanted to know who this Castiel was. It was still his Castiel, but different, blossomed. He wanted to know everything about him, but he knew he was revoked of that right the night he left him at that bus stop in Kansas.

_The things that last_

_Never happen overnight._

_These calloused hands_

_Built the foundation of my life._

_Abandoned for love,_

_Left with no advice_

_How quickly we change overnight._

Castiel's eyes remained closed throughout the entire song until he reached the next verse. He looked up into Dean's attentive green gaze, taking Dean by surprise. So much emotion filled his words, Dean placed his hand over his heart without thinking.

_Torture myself,_

_That's what I feel I'm worth._

_Torture myself,_

_Well aware that the pain_

_Is somewhere else._

Dean's eyes broke from Castiel's and raked over the tattoos that covered his ex-lover. He traced the black lines that swept and licked across his arms, truly seeing the displaced pain Castiel sang about.

_Torture myself,_

_That's what I feel I'm worth._

_Torture myself,_

_Well aware that the pain_

_Is somewhere else._

Castiel's strong vibrato and gruff voice faded out with the guitar. He dropped his eyes back down to his instrument, clearly nervous about Dean's reaction.

Suddenly, Dean scooted closer on the edge of his seat and leaned forward. He brought one of his hands underneath Castiel's chin and tipped it up, encouraging the singer to look him in the eyes.

At that moment, Dean knew that there were billions of other people in the world and they were all living their lives, but all that mattered to him in that moment was that blue eyes met green and it felt like he was seeing them for the first time this way again, like they were back in Dean's bedroom alone, studying for that test all those years ago.

"Hey." Dean offered a small, little smile.

"Hi," Castiel responded.

Dean left all his inhibitions behind and leaned forward a bit more until his lips gently pressed against Castiel's. It felt so good. It felt like coming home.

Too soon, Castiel pulled away. "Dean," he quietly muttered between them with a hint of a warning behind it.

"Cas..."

Castiel's resolve broke, and he surged forward and captured Dean's lips in a hard kiss as he straddled the bodyguard's legs and sat down on his lap. The weight of the singer on Dean made him feel like he was on fire, but that was also partially because of the buzz of the alcohol. For years, Castiel was just an idea, a ghost, so to actually touch and feel him was something of a miracle or a dream. Dean wrapped his arms around the tattooed man and ran his hands down his back as the kiss intensified. Castiel held Dean's face between Heaven and Hell and kissed him with all the passion in the world.

Castiel tasted like cigarettes and honeysuckle. He tasted like how Christmas morning felt, and Dean couldn't get enough. He licked at the seam of the singer's mouth. Castiel allowed Dean to enter, and when their tongues brushed together in a slow, gentle slide, both men moaned but the sound was swallowed up in the kiss. Dean clenched his fists on the back of Castiel's thin shirt when Castiel ground his hips down onto the man below him.

" _Cas_ ," Dean groaned as he thrust his own hips up to meet Castiel. He briefly broke the kiss to look down and see his arousal, which was visible even through the thick fabric of his jeans, and Castiel's tented pajama pants. As he did that, Castiel took the opportunity to move his ministrations to the shell of his ear, licking and nibbling on the lobe.

"You don't know how much I've missed this," the singer whispered in a deep, gravelly voice.

There are so many things Dean wanted to say and should've said in that moment, but he chose against it. Maybe it was the alcohol, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself. He just didn't want to have that conversation with the man then. He wanted to live in the facade that he could get himself lost in like they never really broke up and all those absent years didn't come between them. He could pretend that they were each other's and always have been, so he quickly lifted his head and brought his lips back to Castiel's not just to silence the man but also himself, and because nothing felt more right than when their lips met.

After a moment of just lazily sliding their lips together, Dean put more heat behind the kisses and stood up, hooking his hands behind Castiel's knees to keep them attached. He felt a little bit wobbly from the weight and the slight buzz of whiskey. He walked through the open door of his room and pressed Castiel against the closest wall. The singer hit the wall with a groan and a thump, squeezing his legs around Dean's waist even tighter, causing their clothed erections to press together.

Dean firmly gasped Castiel's ass, earning him another delicious sound from the man. They panted into each other's mouths as Castiel reached his hands down to Dean's belt and quickly started to unbuckle it. Just the sound of the metal clinking around after the belt was opened sparked further arousal in both men, and the desire to be closer burned hotter within them. With the belt open, Dean carried Castiel to the bed. The singer flopped onto the soft bedding and watched in rapture as Dean slowly slid the belt from its loops while looking down at him with heavy-lidded eyes and mussed hair.

After removing his belt, Dean reached back and ripped his shirt over his head before he reached down and popped the button of his jeans, causing his large bulge to spill out. Castiel squirmed on the sheets and bit his lip. Dean thought the man beneath him was absolutely beautiful, even though he was wearing his honeybee pajama pants. The soft glow from the city lights entered the bedroom and illuminated Castiel's tan skin, causing his tattoos to stand in stark contrast.

Dean continued stripping down completely until he was completely bare. By that point, Castiel propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the man standing before him. Dean lightly caressed Castiel's ankle and began tugging at the singer's pants. Castiel got the hint and lifted his hips slightly to allow Dean to slide the fabric off. Dean groaned as he realized Castiel wasn't wearing any underwear; his impressive length slapped against the bare part of his stomach where his rucked-up shirt didn't touch.

Dean threw the pajama pants behind him before he climbed onto the bed and placed himself between Castiel's spread legs. He lightly ran his large hands up the singer's legs, amused by the fact goosebumps trailed in his wake. Dean avoided where Castiel needed his touch the most. Leaning further over Castiel, Dean grabbed onto the center of the man's shirt and pulled him up to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. They moaned against each other's mouths and Castiel ran his hands over Dean's face, neck, and shoulders.

Castiel broke the kiss to whisper in the heated breath that mingled between their lips. " _Please_ ," he begged. "Please, Dean..."

Dean was reinvigorated with a new wave of passion. He tore Castiel's shirt from his body and pushed him back down onto the bed. He was surprised to find that Castiel's chest was bare of tattoos aside from one that rested over his heart. He couldn't make out what it said, but it seemed to be four characters long.

Moving on, Dean quickly reached down to grab the lube and condom from his duffel bag that laid next to the side of the bed. Dean knew that Castiel wanted him to fuck him. He tried his hardest not to think about just how significant and special that was, considering Dean topped the first time they had sex back in high school... which was also the day they professed their love to each other.

Dean shoved down the emotions that were threatening to bubble up to the surface and just decided to let the sensations and instincts override his heart. He gave into the buzz and needed to be inside of the man beneath him  _now_. He popped the cap of the lube with expertise and coated his fingers with some. He dropped the bottle on the bed before running his slick finger down Castiel's impossibly hard cock, over his balls and perineum, and to his hole.

Castiel bucked his hips and drew in a sharp breath as the pad of Dean's finger put pressure against his entrance. Castiel looked into Dean's eyes as he felt the pad of the bodyguard's digit press into him; his mouth hung agape at the pleasure.

Dean made quick work of working his fingers into the singer one-by-one, running them over the man's prostate on every other thrust until he was a writhing mess, clawing at the sheets.

Dean watched Castiel's flushed face the whole time, his chest heaving in time with the movement of his fingers. He knew he singer was ready when Castiel nodded his head to signify that he was ready.

Dean reached for the condom that laid next to them, but Castiel swatted his hand away. "No," his gravel-over-sex voice begged.

Dean nodded. He trusted Castiel in that he knew the man would tell him if he wasn't clean and vice-versa. Even after all that time, they still trusted one another... even after Dean betrayed that trust by leaving.

Again, Dean found himself shoving down his emotions, closing the floodgates and pushing onward. He grabbed the lube and slicked up his borderline painful erection. He scooted up on his knees to Castiel's dripping hole. He guided his thick cock into the tight opening. They both gasped when Dean's tip was engulfed in the heat. Inch-by-inch, he slid in until he was buried to the hilt. He leaned over Castiel, bracketing his head between his string forearms. Lust-blown blue eyes met green. They were both breathing heavily against one another. It felt so right being this close again regardless of their rocky past.

With a slight nod from Castiel urging Dean to move, he pulled his hips back and slowly and shallowly thrust into the man beneath him. They didn't speak anymore; the only sound between them being their shaky breathes and deep groans.

Castiel ran his hands all over Dean's back, up his shoulders, and to his face. When Castiel lightly brushed his thumbs over Dean's high cheekbones and over his plump lower lip, Dean knew that they weren't fucking, they were making love. Even in his buzzed state, the little voice in the back of Dean's head that told him he didn't deserve this, didn't deserve Castiel's affections, whispered into his ear.

To quiet the voice, Dean lifted himself from Castiel and began to fuck into him at a rough pace. No affection, no love, just sex.

Castiel went along with Dean's change of pace, grabbing onto the backs of his knees and lifting his ass higher for Dean. Castiel was so hot and tight around Dean's throbbing cock, he knew he wouldn't last long, but he knew Castiel wasn't going to either when he felt the man's trembling Hell hand grab onto his thigh.

Castiel came untouched with a cry that tore through his throat. He clenched around Dean, and Dean quietly whispered Castiel's name under his breath a he spilled his seed into the man's whole, milking him for all he was worth.

Dean collapsed on top of Castiel, the mess between them be damned. He laid there for a few moments to catch his breath, but quickly sprung into action when he felt Castiel's arms attempt to wrap around him to hold him closer.

Dean jumped up and quickly put on his jeans and grabbed the nearest shirt before walking out of his room. Castiel barely had enough time to react or ask where Dean was going before he locked himself in the nearest bathroom.

"God fucking dammit..." Dean cursed himself as he sat on the edge of the porcelain tub and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "One God" - Slaves https://youtu.be/hHDo1k4w5dQ
> 
> I know it's been 5ever since I've updated. I'm aware that I'm a terrible person.
> 
> Thoughts?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstory!
> 
> WARNING: Depictions of violence and homophobic language!

**_Seven Years Ago_ **

"It's supposed to snow today, Dean!"

Dean looked over at his boyfriend, who was facing him and practically shaking with excitement in the computer chair next to him. Dean always thought he looked so cute when he got this animated over things. It made him almost childlike and insanely adorable.

They were in the library working on their final American history project together. It was the beginning of December in their senior year of high school. Winter break was just on the horizon, and neither of them could wait for the vacation; it would be their first Christmas together, which Dean learned was Castiel's favorite holiday. Dean's was Thanksgiving because, seriously, who doesn't love food? Castiel poked his belly and called him a glutton when he told him that.

"I know, baby, I know," Dean chuckled lightly. "That's the third time you've told me."

"Did you know that the largest snowflake ever observed might have been in Montana and nearly fifteen inches wide? Or that every snowflake being different is actually a myth and was debunked in 1988?"

Dean pushed away a little from the desk and swiveled his chair to face his boyfriend, a small smile on his face. He reached out and grabbed one of Castiel's hands and ran his thumb over the knuckles. "You're such a dork." He lifted the hand to his mouth and peppered kisses along it.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said with a hint of embarrassment. "I just really like snow."

Dean pulled his mouth away and entwined their fingers together. "Don't be sorry, angel. You're just cute, that's all."

"Awww, you think I'm cute?" Castiel teased.

Dean looked around the library and noticed it to be completely empty. The librarian must've gone out or something and of course there wasn't anyone else there considering it was the weekend and supposedly going to snow a considerable amount, so Dean leaned over and gave Castiel a peck on the cheek. The blue-eyed boy looked down at their joined hands as the blood rushed to his cheeks, matching his red cable-knit sweater.

"My parents are in Wichita," Castiel said. "So you should come over for a little while before the snow falls."

"Oooh, are they now?" Dean playfully waggled his eyebrows.

Castiel quietly laughed and rolled his eyes. "You're insatiable, Dean."

"Yeah, it's been said." Dean lifted his other hand to Castiel's chin and maneuvered his face towards his. "But only for you."

The red tinge on Castiel's cheeks deepened before he said, "And a perpetual sap."

"Hey!" Dean said in mock offense.

"Oh, hush,  _little spoon_ ," Castiel teased Dean with the secretly accurate pet name.

"You'll pay for that later when we have a snowball fight. Just you wait, Novak."

The boys packed up their belongings and logged off the computers before heading to the Impala and over to Castiel's house in Eden Estates. They slid into the cold cab, the leather creaking beneath their weight. Dean jammed the key into the ignition. The engine turned over with a roar. He turned the heat up, hearing the infamous rattling noise of the Legos that were shoved in the vent by him and Sam. He looked over to see Castiel shivering a bit. Without thinking, Dean grabbed his boyfriend's hands in both of his and brought them to his mouth where he blew warm air over his slender, piano playing fingers. Castiel smiled at him with a tenderness in his cerulean eyes that made Dean's heart stutter a few beats.

After Dean felt Castiel's hands were warm enough, he placed a kiss on one of the knuckles and dropped them. As Dean backed out of the space, Castiel turned on the radio. He briefly scanned through the static before he landed on a station that was playing a familiar tune. He looked to his boyfriend with a devilish smile before he started singing.

_I really can't stay._

Dean glanced over at Castiel, who was staring at him as if he were waiting for him to join in. "Oh, I see what you're doing here, Cas, and it ain't gonna happen."

 _I've got to go away_ , he continued singing.

 _This evening has been_... Dean huffed out a "fine" before singing back.  ** _Been hoping that you'd drop in._**

Castiel's face looked like it was going to split in half from smiling so big, happy that his boyfriend was humoring him.  _So very nice - **I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice.**_

  _My mother will start to worry - **Beautiful, what's your hurry?**_

_Father will be pacing the floor - **Listen to the fireplace roar**_

_So really I'd better scurry - **Beautiful, please don't hurry**_

_Maybe just a half a drink more - **Put some records on while I pour**_  

_The neighbors might think - **Baby, it's bad out there**_

_Say, what's in this drink? - **No cabs to be had out there**_  

 _I wish I knew how - **Your eyes are like starlight now**_  

 _To break this spell - **I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell**_  

_I ought to say no, no, no - **Mind if I move in closer?**_

_At least I'm gonna say that I tried - **What's the sense in hurting my pride?**_  

 _I really can't stay - **Baby don't hold out**_  

 _Ah, but it's cold outside_  

By the time they finished the song, it had started to snow. Castiel's face was practically pressed up against the window so he could see it better. Dean looked over from the driver's side with a small smile playing over his lips. Whatever he did to deserve Castiel, he didn't know. He was happy, he knew that.

They pulled up to Castiel's house and it took a few minutes for Dean to convince Castiel to come inside, promising him the snow wasn't going to go anywhere and that it'll look better later once more had fallen. Dean not only wanted Castiel inside just so they could fool around, he also had a present for his boyfriend. Maybe Castiel was right and he really was a perpetual sap, but to hell with it. The boys climbed the steps to Castiel's bedroom. Dean closed the door behind them and moved towards the preacher's son, who was sitting on the bed with his body angled towards the window so he could watch the snow fall more.

 "Hey, Cas?"

 Castiel turned to Dean with a smile. "Yes?"

 "I, uh..." Dean sat down on the bed next to Castiel, feeling the weight of his present sitting in his pocket. He didn't know why he couldn't wait until Christmas to give it to him, but something inside him told him he needed to do this now, that it was urgent for some reason. "I got you something."

Castiel did that cute, squinty-eyed head tilt thing that Dean loved. "Christmas isn't for another couple of weeks, Dean."

Dean rubbed the back of neck nervously. "Yeah, I know, and I really tried to wait but I just can't. Sue me." He looked up at Castiel and gave him a flirty smirk. "Close your eyes."

Castiel did as he was told. Dean reached into his front right pocket of his blue jeans and pulled out a little black velvet box. He opened it. "Hold your your palm, baby."

Again, Castiel did has he was told. He felt Dean place something small, fuzzy, and square into the center of his palm. He drew his eyebrows together while his eyes were closed, trying to discern what the foreign object was before Dean said, "Okay, open 'em, angel."

Curiosity made Castiel's eyes fly open at record speed and look down at the object. It was a jewelry box... with a ring. No,  _two_ rings. The rings were simple, plain silver bands with shallow grooves in the center and on the edges that went all the way around the tiny circles.

Dean held his breath as he watched Castiel sit frozen on the bed with tears welling in his lover's eyes. He was so afraid that Castiel thought the rings were too much or he just didn't like them. He counted the time in his head before his boyfriend responded. Sixteen seconds.

"Dean..." Castiel said breathlessly. He brought his shiny wet eyes up to Dean's anxious face. "I-"

All at once, Dean couldn't hold back his thoughts anymore. He started talking a-mile-a-minute. "Oh, God, you hate them. Fuck. I'm so sorry, Cas. I know it seems like I'm moving too fast or whatever, but they're promise rings, not the real deal, so don't worry. I saved up from working at the garage. But  _fuck_ , I probably should've waited. I just love you so much and I-"

Castiel clutched the box firmly in his hand and leaned over to capture Dean's babbling lips in a passionate kiss, effectively shutting him up. Dean's eyes opened wide and he made a little noise in the back of his throat from the surprise. He grabbed Castiel's face between his hands and started a newer, deeper kiss. Before it could get any heavier, Castiel pulled back so he could look at Dean's face while he spoke.

"Dean, I love them. I'm just," the tears refilled his eyes, "I'm really happy."

Dean reached over and wiped a stray tear that was cascading down his lover's cheek. "Good," he smiled back. "I'm sorry for freaking out."

"It's okay," Castiel said as he leaned his face into his boyfriend's palm.

Dean dropped his hand and picked up the ring box. He plucked Castiel's from the soft cushioning and held it out for him. "They're engraved."

Castiel took hold of the band and looked at the inside of it where it read "You Make Loving Fun" in a beautiful script. It was their song. Again, tears threatened to spill over the brims of Castiel's eyes, but he held them back. "I love it, Dean." Blue eyes met green. "I love you."

Dean smiled. "I know."

Castiel mimicked the smile. "Even though you make a frankly unhealthy amount of  _Star Wars_ references."

"You'll find I'm full of surprises," Dean smirked.

"See? There you go again," Castiel laughed.

"Hey, you got the reference, so that makes you just as bad, so laugh it up, fuzzball!"

They both busted out in laughter then, only stopping when tears were streaming from their eyes, which were getting a workout-and-a-half that day. When they finally calmed down, Dean took the ring from Castiel's hand and placed it on his ring finger on his right hand. Castiel gave him a questioning look. Dean caught onto his boyfriend's confusion and said, "It's just so your parents don't get suspicious or anything, sweetheart."

Castiel briefly admired the band on his finger before removing Dean's ring from the box and sliding it onto his larger, calloused finger so it matched his own. They both looked down at their hands lying together, watching the snow-gray light from outside reflect off the metal. Their eyes met again and they both knew what they needed without words.

Dean curled his hand around the back of Castiel's neck and toyed with the unruly black hair there before leaning in and lightly pressing his lips to Castiel's slightly chapped ones. Castiel grabbed Dean's face between his hands then and kissed him soundly. Dean laid Castiel back onto his bed and straddled his hips, all the while keeping their lips attached. Castiel groaned into Dean's mouth and squeezed Dean's thighs when Dean ground his hips down on his growing erection.

Too soon, Dean broke away and sat up straight, still looking down at Castiel and his kiss-swollen lips as he peeled his shirt from his body and threw it to the floor. Castiel's hungry yet loving eyes roved Dean's expansive skin, and Dean swore he could feel their caress.

Dean started to pull at the hem of Castiel's red sweater. Castiel sat up and tore it over his head and let it join Dean's shirt on the carpet. He then wrapped his arms around Dean's torso, allowing his hands to sweep over the plains of his firm back while he licked and kissed Dean's chest. He lavished Dean's sensitive nipples with attention and marveled in every beautiful sound Dean would make. Dean's hands tangled in his messy mop of raven hair. Their actions were not meant to chase their pleasures, but to take their time and revel in the familiar and the love.

Castiel, who was still sitting, looked up at Dean, never breaking eye contact as his hands slowly and skillfully undid the sandy-haired boy's belt and jeans. Dean looked down then as he felt Castiel's hand fish into his black boxer-briefs and free his aching cock from its clothed confines. He moaned as it bobbed free and the weeping head dragged lightly over Castiel's toned, bare stomach.

Dean guided Castiel back down onto the bed before moving himself downward, spreading Castiel's legs and laying between them. Castiel sat up on his elbows as he watched Dean carefully undo his trousers and pull his flushed length into the open air. Dean looked up at him with his piercing green eyes as he licked the underside of Castiel's cock from the base to the tip. Dean moaned and closed his eyes as he tasted Castiel's salty pre-come that spilled over the head. Castiel let out an embarrassingly loud groan and delicately threaded his fingers through Dean's short hair, petting his lover with tenderness and appreciation.

Just as Dean was going to swallow Castiel down, the bedroom door flew open. It was Zachariah and Naomi, Castiel's parents.

"Castiel James Novak!" Zachariah yelled.

The intrusion scared Dean, causing him to fall off the bed and onto the floor. Zachariah looked away in disgust at Dean and his son's nakedness.

"Mr. and Mrs. Novak, I can explain," Dean tried to say as he fumbled around to get himself tucked back into his pants and for his shirt.

"Mother, Father, I-" Castiel said as he covered himself with his pillow, but he didn't have time to respond before Naomi crossed the room and stood at the edge of the bed so she could give Castiel a hard slap across the face. The noise pierced through the commotion of the room and Dean's blood ran cold. He stood up and wedged himself between her and his boyfriend.

"You  _don't_ hit him!" Dean roared.

"Did you really think we were so stupid, Castiel?" Zachariah hissed as Naomi slipped past her husband out of the room. "We knew something was going on with this Winchester boy, but we didn't know it was this... this  _filth!_ "

"I love him!" Castiel screamed.

"That's the problem!" Zachariah yelled back before turning to Dean. "And you," he pointed at the teenager, "how  _dare_ you sodomize my son, you good-for-nothing blue-collared hick!"

Dean bristled at this. "Yeah? Well, I'd rather be that than a holier than thou dickbag!"

Zachariah grabbed Dean by his neck and slammed him up against the nearest wall. Castiel shrieked in horror, quickly buttoning himself so he could get up and attempt to pull his father away from Dean, who was choking. Listening to Dean turn red and purple and gasping for air made Castiel's stomach churn with nausea.

"You're killing him, Father!" Castiel sobbed as he tried to pry Zachariah away.

At that moment, Naomi walked back into the room with a phone in her hand. Zachariah saw this and let go of Dean's neck before storming out of the room in rage. Dean fell to the floor, coughing and sucking down big gulps of air. Castiel knelt at his side, rubbing his hand in between his shoulder blades.

"I called your father, Dean." Naomi's cold voice silenced the room for a couple seconds.

"W-what?" Dean choked out and Castiel froze.

"I called your father and told him about what just happened, what's  _been_ happening. He wants you home.  _Now_." Naomi turned and hurried down the hall then to find her angry husband. As soon as she turned to leave, Castiel wrapped Dean up into a fierce hug, which Dean reciprocated with just as much ferocity.

"Let's run away, Cas," Dean whispered against the skin of Castiel's neck.

Castiel pulled back to look at Dean in the face to see if he was serious. "You'd do that for me?"

"You can't live like this, baby. We'll just get in my car and drive, okay? Just get out of here. Do you wanna do that, Cas?"

Castiel sobbed and nodded. "Yes, Dean."

"Good," Dean kissed him. "Sneak out later. Meet me at that one bus stop a few blocks from here on Jefferson Street at midnight, alright?"

Castiel nodded again.

"I'll see you then, sweetheart." Dean kissed his boyfriend again. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Dean."

Dean fled the Novak house. The snow had already begun to lay a decent blanket on the ground. He could hear his heart beating in his ears as he neared home. John knew. John Winchester, the goddamn dictionary definition of a homophobe, knows that his oldest son was just caught with another boy's dick in his mouth. He'd taken beatings from John before, but he was absolutely terrified of what was going to happen when he walked through that door. He just hoped that Sam wasn't home so he didn't have to see any of it.

Sam...

Could Dean really leave his little brother here with their deadbeat dad while he goes off into the sunset with Castiel? Maybe he could take Sam with him. He wanted to petition for custody and guardianship anyway, and he knows he could probably get it. Plus, Sam wouldn't care that he was with a guy, right? It'd just be him, Sam, and Castiel on the road together, going off to start a new life, a better life. Yeah, that sounded good.

Dean pulled into the driveway.  _Here goes nothin'_ , Dean thought. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He was instantly greeted by a very angry, very drunk John Winchester. He was the violent type when he was this way, which was almost all the time.

John shoved Dean against the closed front door. "You're a fucking fag?" Dean didn't say anything. "You answer me when I'm talkin' to you, boy." He emphasized his point with another rough shove into the door.

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled.

"I can't hear you!"

"Yes, sir!"

John turned his back to Dean and took a few paces away, bottle of Jack still dangling in his hand. "I can't even stand to look at ya. You're fuckin' disgusting, Dean." He paused to take a swig of the amber liquid but still kept his back to Dean. "What about if Sammy woulda been the one to walk in on that nasty shit?"

"I don't know..."

"I called Bobby."

"What?!"

John turned then and met Dean with an evil smile. "I said I called Bobby. You 'n' Sam are gonna be livin' with him from now on."

"But Dad-" God, no...

"No! I don't want you callin' me that anymore, Dean. No son of mine is a fucking fairy."

"I'm not going!"

"It's either you go or I'm throwing you and Sammy's asses out on the street."

Dean choked back the lump that was forming in his throat. "Sam didn't do anything."

"You think I got the time to take care of him?"

"Yes! You do," Dean yelled and marched closer to John and got into his face. "All you do is go to the fucking bar all goddamn day and get hammered and do God knows what else! If you started being a responsible adult and a parent for once in your fucking life, you  _could_ have the time to take care of Sam! To take care of me!"

Dean had John's back to the wall then. Dean didn't expect it though he should've when he felt John punch him in the stomach. Dean doubled over and collapsed to his knees as he held his abdomen. Through the pain, he heard John speak.

"If you cared about Sam at all, you'd better pack your fucking bags." John reached down and grabbed Dean's keys and his cellphone from his pocket and smashed it against the wall before spitting at his son's feet and stumbling away.

Dean slowly made his way upstairs where he saw Sam sitting at the very top, tears rolling down his face. "He shouldn't talk to you like that," his wet eyes shone from beneath his shaggy hair.

"C'mon, Sammy, let's go pack."

"But I don't want to go!"

"We have to or else I can't see you anymore."

Dean couldn't cry in front of Sam, God help him, he just couldn't no matter how much he felt the need to. If Dean didn't agree to go live with Bobby, he would be thrown out with no car, no home, and not nearly enough income. He'd never be able to petition for guardianship of Sam that way; nobody at Child Protective Services or the courts would take him seriously as a candidate. At least living at Bobby's meant a house with four walls and roof over their heads, the both of them where Dean could still care for his little brother. The plan that he had on the drive over here didn't sound so great anymore, the one where he, Sam, and Castiel just got out of Dodge and blew this popsicle stand. John would probably find a way to charge Dean and Castiel with kidnapping or something ridiculous like that.

Dean rifled through his pockets looking for his phone so he could possibly contact Castiel and let him know what happened, but his phone was nowhere to be found, nor were his keys. He packed slowly, trying to think of ways he would get out of this mess so he could have Sam, Castiel, and peace of mind that everything was going to be okay. That epiphany never came.

John came upstairs and asked if the boys were ready to go. Dean nodded and Sam attempted to yell at John until Dean told him to calm down, that it wouldn't solve anything.

They piled into the Impala. Dean had to drive because John was obviously intoxicated, but not intoxicated enough not to warn Dean not to pull any funny business and try and see his "queer boyfriend" again. John sat in the passenger's seat and Sam grabbed the seat behind Dean. He gave his older brother a reassuring squeeze before they got on the road. That's when Dean wanted to cry. He couldn't believe this was happening, that his father who has never given a damn about anything has decided to care so much and so negatively about this, about Dean being happy, even if it's with a guy, but there was nothing he could do.

Once they were well into their trek, John fell asleep. Dean knew how to get to Bobby's. It was snowing in Nebraska. Dean watched the flakes zoom by in the cold winter night and thought about how his day went from paradise to pandemonium in the blink of an eye. The orange street lamps shone on the ring Dean wore around his finger. With each passing mile, it was getting closer to midnight. Castiel still thought that Dean was going to meet him at that bus stop on Jefferson... how they were going to say screw everyone who has a problem with their love and go live life for themselves...

With both John and Sam asleep, Dean let himself cry. Tears streaked his face in silence, and he tried his hardest not to make any noise despite the fact that his heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest and stomped on by every single person in the goddamn world. He blamed himself for all this happening. If he never gave Castiel the ring, they probably never would've ended up having sex. Okay, maybe that's a lie, but they probably would've ended up having sex quicker if he hadn't have given the jewelry to him. It was all his fault, and it was his fault for being too much of a chickenshit to let John throw him out onto the streets. If he did that, he could still have Castiel, but not Sam.

"Fuck," he murmured under his breath as he wiped his hand down over his face, drying it of tears. He switched on the radio and turned the volume down low. The first song he heard was by Fleetwood Mac... They were Castiel's favorite.

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispered, hoping that some how, some way, Castiel heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst. So, what do y'all think? Did Dean make the right decision?
> 
> "Baby, It's Cold Outside" - Idina Menzel ft. Michael Buble  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnH_RGyzbSU
> 
> Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! <3


	10. Chapter 10

_Bang, bang, bang!_

"Dean," Chuck's muffled voice sounded from outside the door. "Are you in there? We have to get on the road soon."

Dean groaned and sat up from the cold tile floor. He had a painful kink in his neck. He rotated his head until he heard a distinct  _pop_. "I'll be out in a second," he grumbled.

His knees creaked as he stood. He splashed some water on his face and looked into the mirror before returning to his room. He looked like crap: tired, stressed, drained. His stomach was a little upset from the whiskey he drank. The memories of last night came flooding back into his mind, of Castiel writhing beneath him, the loving look that twinkled in his eyes...

Dean shook his head in attempt to rid himself of the images. He couldn't deal with that right now. He panicked, he knew that. Running away from someone and locking yourself into the bathroom to ensure that distance are pretty clear indicators that you regretted your decisions and actions. He had no idea how he was going to face Castiel. It was going to be rough looking at him after what happened, but God, it felt so good, it felt like home, and that was the problem. Dean didn't  _deserve_ that after what he did. Castiel didn't deserve that kind of treatment; it wasn't fair to him after all that Dean had done. Dean made his bed, laid in it... with his ex-boyfriend.

Dean opened the door and was thankful that no one was around. Not only didn't he think he could face Castiel, he didn't think he could really face anyone at the moment. He needed time to think, even if it was just for a little while. He held his breath as he pushed the door open to his room. The selfish side of him wanted Castiel to still be there, tangled in the soft sheets with the morning's golden glow surrounding him in all his naked glory. The realistic, rational side of him knew that Castiel wasn't going to be there and that he shouldn't want him to be, but that didn't keep him from being selfishly hopeful.

Just as Dean figured, his room was empty. The unmade, messy bed was an eyesore; the sight of it and the knowledge of what happened there physically pained him. He clenched his jaw and dropped his eyes to the floor. He quickly shed his clothes and put on fresh ones, still sure to keep the ring Castiel had dropped at his feet a few days earlier in his pocket. He knew he should probably get a shower, but he was in a rush. He was about to be stuck on a bus with the Seraphs and Castiel friggin Novak for eight hours. At least they didn't have to do a show as soon as they got to Virginia. Having to watch Castiel on stage not even a day after royally fucking up yet again was not preferably ideal.

Dean gathered up his belongings into his duffel and made his way out of the penthouse suite. He noticed that the suite was quiet, which meant everyone was probably already on the bus waiting for him. Great.

The bus was around the back of the building, away from prying eyes and paparazzi. Dean opened door and climbed the steps into the cabin of the bus. Everyone was in their usual seats: Martin sat at the wheel; Chuck sat shotgun; Balthazar, Crowley, and Gabriel, who must know about what happened considering the way his eyes bore into him, were crammed together on the couch discussing something about the upcoming show in detail; and Samandriel sat in the booth where Dean usually sat. No Castiel. Dean noticed the door to the "bedroom" was closed. He didn't know if it made him feel better that he didn't have to face the singer in that moment or made him feel worse because the man was hiding from him.

Chuck looked back at Dean and gave him a smile before turning to Martin and telling him they were ready. Dean slid into the booth next to Samandriel, placing his duffel on the tabletop. "Hey," the guitarist said.

"Hey, man," Dean replied. He didn't really want to talk, but he liked Samandriel. He was a good kid, young though. It made him wonder how the guy even found the band or how any of them found each other, for that matter. How was the band even started?

Before Dean could think about it anymore, Samandriel spoke up. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

Dean gave him a shrug.

"I understand. You don't have to talk about it with me if you don't want to, but just know that I'm here."

Dean nodded.

"In the meantime, we can play some cards or something if you wanted to get your mind off of it."

"Yeah, okay."

. . .

Dean and Samandriel ended up playing cards for a couple hours with Balthazar and Crowley later joining them. Gabriel retreated to the bedroom to sit with Castiel. Dean was happy about this so at least someone was there with the singer because it just couldn't be him. The dull ache in his heart still remained despite the cheery face he put on while the four men enjoyed their games.

They were in Pennsylvania by that time and still had around six hours to go until they reached Virginia. Eventually, the men decided they had enough and disbanded. Balthazar moved to the couch and Crowley sat in the recliner and decided to nap. Samandriel and Dean weren't tired, so they sat in comfortable silence in the booth.  Samandriel grabbed his acoustic guitar and wedged it between him and the tabletop. He played a soft, soothing melody.

Dean was lost in thought as he listened to the quiet plucking of strings. Absentmindedly, he looked to the bedroom door where he knew Castiel and Gabriel were. Part of him desperately wanted to go in there, to explain himself to the singer and beg for forgiveness, to plead for more of that intimacy, but his pride wouldn't let him.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Samandriel's soft voice intermingled with his strumming, which broke the bodyguard from his trance.

Dean quickly snapped his eyes to the guitarist as if he just got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. "W-What do you mean?"

"Castiel," Samandriel whispered, sure not to wake his fellow band mates up. "He never locks himself in there like this unless something's wrong."

Dean nervously gulped. He couldn't help himself from asking, "When was the last time this happened?"

Samandriel kept his head down to watch his hands move across the frets as he continued to play softly. "It doesn't happen often. Usually around the beginning of December, the end of January, and sometime in the spring, we've noticed." He rang out an E minor chord. "He just gets in these bad funks, I guess? It's then that he usually does his writing, too. I don't know why, but whatever the reason," he lifted his head to offer a small smile, "I'm thankful. His lyrics are heart-wrenching, you know?"

"All too well," Dean murmured under his breath. He knew exactly why Castiel got that way around those times of the year. Early December is when he abandoned Castiel, the end of January was his birthday, and the spring was when they started dating. He felt so guilty knowing that even then, years later, Castiel still hurt. Don't get him wrong, Dean hurt, too, especially around December and specifically Christmas time. Every year, he would honestly have a drink for the love lost, for Castiel, on Christmas Eve as he thought about what could've been.

Dean always wondered where Castiel ended up. He even tried to return to Lawrence once.

. . .

"Boy, I'm just about sick of ya sittin' here all damn day mopin'," Bobby's gruff voice tore Dean from his thoughts.

"What?"

"You heard me." Bobby sat down next to Dean on the couch in his dusty living room. "What's got ya so down, son? You've been this way ever since your daddy dropped you and Sam off up here."

Bobby didn't know why John decided to hand Sam and Dean over to him about a month ago, but he was thankful. Bobby and John were childhood friends, and he knew John developed a drinking problem after Mary died. He always worried about Sam and Dean because of it. The way that John would get reminded him all too much of his own father, so when John and the boys showed up on his doorstep on that cold December night, Bobby gladly took them in and away from John, no questions asked. John called a cab and hopped on a bus back to Kansas.

Naturally, Bobby knew the boys must have been upset about uprooting their lives like that to move up to South Dakota, but Sam eventually adjusted once he got into the swing of things in school, which Bobby made sure to enroll the boys in the day after they got there. Bobby also let Sam get a puppy from the woman who lived up the road. John never let them have pets, and Bobby figured having a dog around would especially help the youngest Winchester. However, Dean didn't take it well and he wasn't bouncing back. Sam even voiced his concerns to his pseudo uncle, explaining that his big brother wouldn't even talk to him.

Dean didn't meet Bobby's eyes and simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't give me none of that. I know somethin's wrong, and I'm just worried 'bout ya is all."

"It's not important," Dean said under his breath, which was a complete lie. Castiel was important, he was  _everything_. He had no way to contact him, had no way of knowing whether or not his lover was okay. He couldn't just hop in the Impala and drive down to Kansas. What if John had talked to Bobby about what happened? What if Bobby would rat on him? In retrospect, he knew those were ridiculous things to think, but in the moment, he didn't know how to feel. He was an emotional wreck.

"The hell it is!" Bobby said with a hint of angry concern. "You and your brother have always been like sons to me, Dean, you know that. I don't mean to go all soft on ya, but I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, and I'll lend ya a pair of old ears, no judgement. That's what family is, boy."

Tears welled in Dean's eyes then. Why couldn't his father be this way? He turned his green, wet eyes to Bobby. "No judgement?"

"Scout's honor."

Dean huffed out a deep breath. "You know why Dad brought us here, right?"

"Can't say that I do, but no matter the reason, I'm glad."

Dean drew his eyebrows together in confusion. His dad didn't even tell Bobby? He must have been  _really_ ashamed of him then... That shouldn't hurt considering John was a colossal jerk, but it did. "Bobby," his voice wavered, "Dad brought us here because he... he..."

Dean started to draw in large breaths in attempt to will his tears away. Bobby laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's alright."

"But it's not!" The teenager erupted. He stood from the couch then, breaking Bobby's touch and pacing the floor in front of him. "It's not alright! He found out about Cas! He yanked me away from him! The only person I've ever fucking loved in my entire life, and he just... just..." Dean fell back onto the couch with his palms digging into his teary eyes. After a few moments, he continued more calmly. "He called me names, threatened me, beat me, and I broke, Bobby." He lifted his sad eyes to Bobby's intense, concerned stare. "I broke, and I broke my promise to  _him_."

Bobby held Dean then as a new wave of tears spilled over. After sitting in silence, Bobby tried to put the pieces together. "Let me get this straight," he said as he separated Dean from himself, holding him at arms-length. "Are you tryin' to tell me that John did all that and brought you boys here because he found out you had a boyfriend?"

Dean kept his eyes down and nodded.

"That stupid, sorry son-of-a-bitch..."

Sam walked in the room then with the klutzy, little puppy, who he named Bones, and took in the scene before him. "Is everything okay?"

Bobby shook his head and motioned for Sam to sit down in the chair across from the couch. He plopped down and Bones clambered up into his lap. Dean wiped his hand down his face. When he felt he was ready, he explained to both Sam and Bobby exactly what happened. He was thankful that neither of them interrupted him, just sat and listened.

"So, yeah... Here I am." He lifted his head to look at Sam, who had tears in his eyes and anger in his jaw over what his father did to his big brother. "Here we are."

"Go find him," Bobby said.

Dean wasn't sure he heard him correctly. "What?"

"Go find him, son."

"Yeah, Dean, go find Cas. We still have a few days left of winter break. Drive down there and get him."

New tears welled in Dean's eyes, but these were ones of happiness. He hurried up to his bare-walled bedroom and shoved a handful of clothes into a bag before he raced down the stairs. Bobby threw the keys to the Impala in his direction.

"Be careful!" Bobby shouted as the boy made his way through the front door.

Dean hauled ass to Kansas, cops be damned. He didn't even care if he got a ticket, he just needed to get to Lawrence  _now_. It was dark by the time he made it to the familiar outskirts of town. He mentally gave his father the middle finger as he drove by his street en route to the Novak's house in Eden Estates.

When Dean pulled into the development, he realized that he didn't really have a game plan. He couldn't just waltz up to the Novak's front door and demand to see Castiel. They'd probably call the cops, or worse, John. It was then that he decided to park the Impala a few streets away from the preacher's house. Hidden in the dark, he cut through people's backyards until he reached where he knew Castiel's window was. He looked on the ground for a pebble he could throw up there to catch his lover's attention. He thought it was odd how the light was off; it was only eight in the evening. Still, he threw tiny pebbles up at the window, some hitting the glass and others hitting the panes.

Dean waited...

And waited...

And waited.

Nothing.

Panic struck through Dean then. Where was Castiel? He ran back to the Impala then and decided to check everywhere in town: the library, the school, the diner, everywhere despite the fact that he knew it to be implausible to be in many of the places he checked at that hour. He stopped at the 7/11 a few blocks from the school to get some coffee when he saw Anna, who he remembered seeing Castiel talk to a few times. Maybe she would know what happened to him. She was reading the nutrition label of a Tastykake snack when he approached her.

"Anna?" Dean questioned.

The redhead looked up then in confusion, recognition, elation, and concern in the span of a second. "Hey, Dean."

"I hate to cut to the chase, but do you have any idea where Cas could be? I know you two are friends and I really need to find him."

Anna's expression fell then, and that only caused the pit in Dean's stomach to sink deeper. "Dean, no one has seen Cas in a while. He ran off."

She then pointed in the direction of the bulletin board next to the cash register with missing persons fliers pinned to it. Dean walked over to it and saw there was a black-and-white, grainy picture of Castiel with the large word "MISSING" printed on the top along with a "heartfelt" message from his parents. He scoffed when he read the hollow words. He knew the only reason why Zachariah and Naomi Novak would ever show concern for their son, their _gay_ son, if it weren't for their notoriety around the area. If a preacher's son goes missing and he and his wife don't seem to care, it could effect "business."

"He hasn't been in school," Anna said from over Dean's shoulder. He turned to face her with shiny eyes. "Apparently he doesn't have his phone either. The line was disconnected."

Dean's heart raced in his chest. What if something bad had happened to him? What if he was in a ditch somewhere? Oh, God... Dean ran out of the store and vomited in an empty parking space. He didn't care about the weird looks people were giving him. He just couldn't stand the thought that Castiel might be in trouble or worse... He sat on the curb then with his head between his knees.

Anna laid a soothing hand on Dean's back and rubbed it in circles across his leather jacket. Once he calmed down, she spoke. "I know that this sucks, Dean, but where have you been? I thought that maybe you and Cas ran away together but-"

"What?" Dean snapped his head in her direction. She knew that they were together?

"Relax," she held her hands up and open in mock defense. "Cas told me. Plus, you two were disgustingly sweet."

Dean's head fell back to the small puddle of bile at his feet. He ended up spilling his guts even more, figuratively, to Anna and explained the whole thing. He hated the slightly pitiful look she offered him after he was done telling the story, but he just let it go.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she spoke softly. Dean nodded and lifted his head to the sky and looked at the stars. "I'd help you if I could, but I'll tell you what," she said as she reached into her pocket and extracted her phone. "I'll grab your number and let you know if I hear anything, okay?"

Dean nodded once more and recited his number to her. She gave him a hug then and wished him a safe trip back to Bobby's before walking over to her car. He watched her go until he couldn't see her taillights anymore. He couldn't move.

A half-an-hour later, he lifted himself from the dried gum, littered sidewalk and sullenly walked back to his car. He absentmindedly twisted the ring around his finger hoping that somehow, someway that Castiel knew he was looking for him and that he still loved him.

It was a long drive back to South Dakota.

. . .

"I just hope he's alright."

Samandriel's voice cut through Dean's reminiscent memory. "Me, too," he answered. 

Dean watched for a few moments as the guitarist continued to strum the instrument in his hold. "So," he interrupted, "I feel like an idiot for asking this, but how did y'all get started anyway?"

Samandriel smiled and stopped playing. He rested the guitar next to him as he spoke. "You mean you're our bodyguard and you never Googled us?"

Dean chuckled. "Can't say that I have."

"Well, we're technically from Missouri."

"Technically?"

"We're all misfits," Samandriel spoke truthfully but with no pity behind his words. "We're all from different places, but we all just so happened to end up in Joplin at the same time." Samadriel signaled his head over in Balthazar and Crowley's direction. "They're from Liverpool, if you couldn't tell by their accents." He tilted his head back toward the bedroom. "Gabriel is from Austin and Cas is from Kansas." Dean dropped his eyes to his hands that rest on the table. "And obviously I'm from the Buffalo area, hence the small, little venue we played."

"Why Joplin though?"

Samandriel took a quick swig from his water bottle. "We all had our reasons. Basically, we were all running from something."

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as he thought of Castiel sitting at that snowy, vacant bus stop in Lawrence.

"It was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie," Samandriel shrugged. "We didn't have much to our names. I met Cas first in this wicked old church. We were both homeless at the time."

Homeless... Castiel was  _homeless_. It was all Dean's fault. He kept his eyes hidden from Samandriel just in case any tears threatened to spill over.

"It was freezing that winter but we managed. I had my guitar with me," he said as he lightly patted the wood of the instrument next to him. "And Cas could sing, so we would perform on the street for cash, and I taught him how to play, too. Anyway, it wasn't much, but it was something. That's how we met Gabriel, Balthazar, and Crowley. They were already friends before we met them since they all worked at the same bar together. They walked by us and took us in."

"How old were you when all this happened?" Dean already knew exactly how old Castiel was at the time, but he had to keep up the act for appearance's sake.

"Uh, I think Gabe was like twenty-one, Balthazar was twenty, Crowley was twenty-three, Cas was like seventeen-going-on-eighteen, and I was fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Dean tried to suppress his shock.

Samandriel nodded. "The homeless life was better than my home life by far. I don't regret my decision. Never have."

Dean could sense that the guitarist wasn't going to elaborate on what exactly the issue was back home and he totally respected that. He knew he'd hate it if someone tried to pry into his own life and get him to spill the beans about John.

"So, uh..." Dean started nervously. "What happened to Cas?"

Samandriel met the bodyguard's eyes with an honest expression. "I really don't know, to tell you the truth. I mean, I know his parents were ridiculously religious and kicked him out for being gay, but I don't know, that just never felt like the whole story, you know?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Anyway," the guitarist continued, "we found out Gabe, Balthazar, and Crowley were musicians, too, once we moved in with them. We started to jam and played a few open-mic nights at the bar they worked at. We kept drawing in bigger and bigger crowds until we were eventually offered a record deal." Dean lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "I know it sounds like a fairy tale or something, but I honestly don't know where I would be without these guys. Probably found dead in a ditch somewhere," he chuckled.

Dean flinched at the word choice but gave Samandriel a smile. 

. . .

The rest of the ride flew by as Dean opted out for a nap and another round of cards with the guys. Gabriel and Castiel still remained locked away in the bedroom. Dean often caught himself listening for noises beyond the door and specifically Castiel's voice. He hated himself for doing this to the man  _again_ , but he couldn't  _not_ care about how Castiel was feeling despite the fact that he kept his concern hidden and concealed from the others.

They arrived at the Omni Hotel in Charlottesville around dinnertime. Dean stepped out of the bus first and stood guard by the door as the Seraphs exited one-by-one. Nervousness settled underneath Dean's skin, an itch he couldn't scratch, as he waited for Gabriel and Castiel to come out.

Naturally, Dean felt like Gabriel was trying to Force Choke him when they made eye-contact. Dean tried to act like it didn't phase him even though he knew exactly why the Seraph was furious with him. Hell, he was furious with himself. Castiel slowly emerged from the bus after Gabriel, and Dean had to fight with everything he had to keep his composure. The singer looked unbelievably tired and puffy-eyed, no doubt from crying. Great. As if Dean didn't need anything else to feel shitty about.

Dean had already decided back at the hotel in New York that he wasn't going to let what happened between him and Castiel last night come between them, that he needed to remain professional. He decided that the easiest way to do that would be to slip back into the asshole persona. Well, more like being in asshole by ignoring the man. Nothing bad could happen if Dean decided not to talk to the guy, right? So, that's why Dean kept his eyes off of the blue, red-rimmed-eyed man before him and maintained a straight face.

"Dean..." Castiel's low, broken voice called.

Dean tensed his jaw then, still refusing to make eye-contact with his charge. He scanned the area to ensure there were no fan or paparazzi threats around to busy himself and keep him from talking to the singer. Castiel simply stood there for a moment, waiting for Dean to say something,  _anything_. When he realized that moment wouldn't come, he nodded his head to himself and walked into the hotel. Dean let go of the air he hadn't realized he'd been holding once the singer was far enough away.

It was going to be a long night.

. . .

"He's a fucking asshole, Cassie." Gabriel said around a mouthful of a Snickers as he kicked back in a chair in the frontman's suite.

Castiel rolled his eyes though he knew his friend couldn't see them as he poured himself a couple fingers of Jack Daniels. "Yeah, you've said that a dozen times now."

"Doesn't make it any less true." Gabriel huffed and pulled a yo-yo from his pocket and started playing with it.

Castiel sat on the foot of his bed and downed his drink in one gulp. He held the empty glass between his tattooed hands. "Maybe if I try to talk to him again, he'll-"

Gabriel clenched the yo-yo tight in his fist. "No, don't you  _dare_ try and fix this." He pointed at his friend with strong conviction. "You didn't break this." He thumbed in the direction of the door. "He did."

"He's probably just scared, Gabriel."

"Why are you making excuses for him, Cassie? Are you even listening to yourself?"

Castiel looked down at the way the pads of his fingertips pressed against the glass in his hands from inside the cup. A new wave of tears welled in his already burning, raw eyes. "You don't think I have a right to be upset?"

"I didn't say that, kiddo." Gabriel went back to fooling with his yo-yo. "I just don't understand how you're not more pissed. I know I'd want to Mike TV his ass. Shrink him down and mess with him."

Castiel groaned and flopped back onto the bedding with his angel arm slung over his eyes. "Will you please stop making  _Willy Wonka_ references?"

"Aha! So you  _have_ seen it!" Gabriel exclaimed and Castiel flipped him off with his demon hand. A few seconds passed in silence.

"Look," Castiel sighed, "I'm just upset right now, okay? I'm sure a healthy dose of anger will come along later just to appease you, but that's not how I feel right now, much to your disappointment."

"So I'm just supposed to let you sulk?" Gabriel did a trick with his red yo-yo that Castiel didn't see.

"Yes. For now."

. . .

The night off wasn't so bad, though Dean decided to turn in early since he didn't get a good night's rest on the bathroom floor last night after...  _No._ He had to completely forget about what happened if he was going to maintain his sanity and overall professionalism.

He stripped from his clothes as he thought it best to get a shower before going to sleep. The hot water swirled steam around the bathroom in contrast to the sleek lines and edges of the modernness of it. He let out a long sigh as the impeccable water pressure soothed his sore muscles. Thinking about  _why_ they were sore involuntarily caused his blood to rush south. His length stood proudly at full attention as the images of the night prior came flashing into his mind.

Castiel spreading his legs wider for Dean as he offered up his body. The noises he made as Dean glided in-and-out of his tight, warm wet hole...

Dean touched himself then. He wrapped his large hand around himself just to relieve some of the pressure, but he caught himself before going any further. Regardless of how badly he wanted to, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't have this luxury that he didn't deserve. It was wrong that he even let it actually happen in the first place.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath as he slammed his fist against the shower wall. Why did he have to be such a fuck up?

When he exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist, he noticed his phone was buzzing. The name "Sammy" illuminated the screen along with a picture of him, Jess, and Bones. He wiped his damp hand on his towel and mentally reminded himself not to let it slip about what he and Castiel did before answering.

"Heya, Sammy!"

"Uh, hey, Dean," Sam's voice filtered through the speaker. "You sound... happy."

"Yeah, so? Why wouldn't I be?" He was lying straight through his teeth.

"Do you really need me to spell it out?"

"Sam, look," he sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his hand over his face while he spoke. "Cas and I have history, I know, but I'm not going to let it get in the way of my job because that's what I'm here for. I'm here to work."

"Yeah, but-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Sam."

"But-"

"Sam," he said with a sternness to his voice.

"Ugh," Sam sighed, "fine. We won't talk about it even though I think we definitely should. I know this can't be easy for you."

"You're not my therapist," Dean bit back.

"Well, if not me than who? You  _never_ like to talk things out and it always comes back around to bite you in the ass, so if you want to self-destruct, be my guest."

The line went dead then. Dean haphazardly threw his phone behind him. He knew Sam wasn't wrong, this whole Castiel thing wasn't easy on him and he does have the tendency to self-destruct, but he's an idiot okay? He knows that. It's the whole reason why he's even in this mess to begin with.

Dean went to sleep that night with his mind racing and worrying about the next day would bring.

. . .

In preparation for the concert that night, Chuck drove Dean to the venue early. It was going to be a huge show in the University of Virginia's basketball arena, and with a college venue typically comes a lot of chaos. Benny asked for Dean to get there early because he was going to be at a new post.

Benny and the rest of the guys spent a good chunk of the day going over mock security breeches and how to deal with body surfers. Because this venue is larger with a more intense crowd, Benny moved Dean up to the front lines with him. He couldn't deny the fact that he was incredibly nervous. He was never that close to the action before where he would actually have to stop fans from jumping or being thrown onstage. It was terrifying but also exhilarating. The change of pace allowed him to focus more on the job and less on Castiel Novak. Plus, this new position meant he didn't have to even look at the man.

It was about an hour before showtime when they started to let people filter in. Dean, Benny, and the others were already stationed at their posts, headsets on and ready to go. The arena was different than a lot of the other places that they had been to simply because it was arena. It looked like wall-to-wall fans from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. That paired with the pit down on where the basketball court would be blew Dean's mind. He knew the show was sold out, which meant there had to be over 14,000 fans.

The house lights shut out and the crowd erupted into a cacophony of screams as they awaited the Seraphs. Dean would never tell, but he was honestly worried about the songs that the band was going to play tonight considering Castiel often played things that aligned with how he currently felt.

Crowley started playing heavily on the drums and the lights synchronized with his chaotic beats. The stage lights flared up then along with the pitch of the screams.

"What the fuck is up, Virginia!" Castiel yelled into the microphone.

The show was going off without a hitch and Dean and the guys were doing a great job keeping up with the amped-up college kids. For the most part, the show was high-energy and the Seraphs played a lot of songs Dean had already heard before, but the second-to-last song took on a much different tone.

"Before we get out of here, we want to play you guys a new song." Castiel paused to let the audience cheer in excitement. Dean felt the familiar sinking feelings of nervousness and guilt. "I wrote this a long time ago and almost forgot about it until recently. I hope you all enjoy it, and again, I want to thank everyone for coming out to see us tonight. We love you! This song's called 'Winter Everywhere'."

The crowd cheered again and quieted down as they waited for the song to start. Out of sheer curiosity, Dean quickly glanced behind him at the stage where he saw Castiel and Samandriel sitting on stools, angled towards one another with a spotlight shining down on them. Castiel was holding his red-taped mic and Samandriel had his guitar with a mic stand set up for him. He then turned his attention back to the fans in front of him.

This song was more melodic and definitely slower. Dean recognized the riff Samandriel played from back on the bus. Already, fans started breaking out their lighters and cell phone flashlights and began to sway from side-to-side.

Castiel's inhale could be heard over the speakers and a shiver ran down Dean's spine.

_They tell me hold on,_

_But pain like this he suffers so long_

_And truth be told,_

_If we ever did, where would you be?_

_It’s just the blame that you aim to,_

_Even all the times I sang too just to keep you holding on._

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest by far._

The image of Castiel sitting in the Impala with a goofy grin on his face suddenly appeared in Dean's mind. He balled his hands into fists down by his sides as his eyes scanned the crowd, but then Samandriel's voice cut in.

_If you want it could be my fault,_

_I could be your masochistic scapegoat lover._

_I tore us apart._

_No way we can take it back,_

_I lose my part for nothing._

_Lonely summers killing me because_

_There’s still a fire when I think about you,_

_I try to drown it but I know it’s no use._

_Nobody does it like the way we use to,_

_Whoa..._

Dean felt tears prick his eyes, but he blinked them back and tried to focus on the movement of the lights in front of him. Castiel picked up where Samandriel left off.  
  
_It’s just the blame that you aim to,_

_Even all the times I sang to just to keep you holding on,_

_And all these moments with you that make me feel like I’m brave._  
  
_Please stop_ , Samandriel sang and Castiel continued.

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest by far._

The memory of Dean and Castiel singing "Baby, It's Cold Outside" that fateful day in December seven years ago played on repeat, even as Samandriel continued to sing.

_I got the message, you got the message_

_Now that we’re all alone._

_I got the message, you got the message:_

_You’re never coming home._

Dean stole himself another glance over his shoulder to see that Castiel was now standing and walking closer to the edge of the stage, clapping his hand and mic together in time with the growing intensity of the drums. When he started to sing again, the crowd joined in with him, already having learned the chorus of the new song. Dean faced forwards again once Castiel was standing right above him, his feet essentially on either side of his head.  
  
_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest by far._

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang..._

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest by far._

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest..._

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest by far._

_I wanna go back to the days in our car_

_Where we sang the loudest by far..._

The song faded out and the fans roared. Castiel thanked them again as a single tear rolled down Dean's cheek, masked by the darkness of the pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Winter Everywhere" (ft. Tillian Pearson) - Slaves  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tu-bzeRw9PI
> 
> BAM! Update.
> 
> #SorryNotSorry for the angst and emotions and shit. Also, #SorryNotSorry for any typos you might have found. It's Monday, okay?
> 
> I should be writing my 15 page paper that's due tomorrow morning that I haven't even started yet, but I was like fuck it, I'm gonna update, especially since I was hella motivated by seeing Sleeping With Sirens last night at the Fillmore in Philly. Like, you donut understand, I'd been waiting six years, SIX YEARS, to see them live, so finally having to opportunity really just made my whole life and inspired and motivated me to write another chapter. I hope y'all like it so far!
> 
> I hope all of y'all are doing okay, and if you're not, know that you're not alone.
> 
> <3
> 
> Okay, so I'm dying to know... *shakes you by the shoulders* WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS AND COMMENTS?!


	11. Chapter 11

Two weeks went by after that Virginia show. The Seraphs moved further inland and were now in Chicago after touring up-and-down the east coast.

Dean still hadn't talked to Castiel.

It wasn't that Dean didn't  _want_ to talk to the singer, it was the exact opposite, actually. He wanted to explain himself to Castiel, he truly did, but that was what his heart wanted and he didn't think it should have anything it desired. Dean didn't think he was good at much, but he knew the art of self-depreciation and denial like the back of his hand. So, as hard as it was to avoid and ignore Castiel, Dean was going to do it if it meant it would give him the punishment he so rightfully deserved.

Dean still hadn't talked to Sam either, nor had Sam called him. It bothered him, but perhaps it was for the best. The side of him the yearned for Castiel wanted to spill his fuzzy thoughts and feelings to Sam and seek out advice, but he knew better than to do that.

As if Dean needed another reason to feel shitty, he was reminded of who he had back home every time he received his paycheck from Pamela. Lisa was still paying the rent and keeping up with things as far as he knew, but they didn't talk much. A text here, another text there, but never any calls. It made it easier to forget about her, honestly, and for Dean to ignore his own guilt caused by him cheating on her. No, he didn't love her, but that didn't stop him from feeling even more like a piece of shit.

So, when Dean found himself getting upset over what happened all those years ago and the mistake of sleeping with Castiel again, he thought about Lisa and the job. He thought about how lucky he was to even have anyone waiting for him at home and how lucky he was to have such a well paying job, even if said job emotionally exhausted him. Yeah, thinking of Lisa left a sour taste in Dean's mouth, but she was just another reason why he should abstain from Castiel and his feelings.

Tonight, Dean wasn't thinking about Lisa. The Seraphs were playing a big gig in Chicago at the United Center. The crowd was going to be close to twenty thousand, so Dean and the rest of the security guys were really going to have their work cut out for them. They rolled into town a day or so ago and were staying at the Four Seasons. They spent last night in the suite goofing around and jamming out. Dean decided to give them some time and he stayed in his room reading the Vonnegut book he picked up at a secondhand shop when they were in Raleigh last week.

Today was the night of the concert. Since the venue was pretty big and not usually used for concerts, they did a soundcheck, which Dean had to go to. The arena was larger than he thought, and it looked so strange empty. He was looking all around the space at the rows upon rows of seats and was brought out of his awe by Benny's hand clamping down on his shoulder.

"Hey, brotha," the southerner drawled.

"Hey, man," Dean smiled. "So, what's the game plan for tonight?"

"You been doin' pretty well up front the last couple a'times, so you'll be up there again." Benny pointed at the stage, front and center.

Dean nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Benny drew his brows together and eyed the other man over. "Are ya alright there, Dean-o?"

Dean peeled his eyes from the stage where he saw the band getting setup. They were all in casual, comfortable clothes, including Castiel who looked damn good in a pair of loose jeans slung low on his hips and a large WWF t-shirt because of course the guy was impossibly more perfect and cared about animals. He met Benny's concerned expression. "Sorry... what?"

"I was just askin' if y'were alright. Y'seem.... off."

"I'm fine, Benny," Dean bit out.

"Are ya sure? 'Cause I-"

"Dammit, Benny, I said I'm fine!" Dean's voice echoed in the large space. The Seraphs and everyone on the crew looked at him.

"If you say so, brotha." Benny clasped another hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before meeting up with the other guys to give them their positions.

"Benny, wait, I-" He wanted to apologize, but Benny had already walked away. He didn't mean to snap on him like. He didn't realize how tightly he was wound until that moment. In fact, he realized that he'd been that way since...  _that night_.

It was going to be a long, long show...

 

. . .

 

Needless to say, "a long, long show" was a bit of an understatement.

The fans were extra crazy for some reason, and Dean and the guys really had to keep their eyes peeled, especially Dean since he was center stage. Perhaps it was because the set the Seraphs played was super angry to say the least. Dean was handling crowd surfers and had his eyes trained on some of the moshers just to make sure they stayed in-check and nothing floated to close to the stage.

The music wasn't really bothering Dean, much to his surprise. A lot of what the band was playing, he had heard before. Yeah, hearing Castiel's beautifully rugged, raspy yet somehow smooth voice always did funny things to him, but at least he didn't have to look at him or anything.

However, Castiel's voice pierced through the cacophony of cheers and Dean couldn't help but listen.

"Chicago!" The lead singer yelled and the crowd screamed back. "Chicago! We have to roll out of here soon, but we got a little something to give you." Castiel paused and Crowley wildly beat the drums. The lights flashed quickly in-sync with his frantic cadence. "How about a song from our next album?!"

If Dean thought the crowd was crazy before, nothing could compare to the level it went to after that until Castiel must've calmed the crowd with a gesture. They were absolutely _rabid_. Dean imagined him with that red-taped microphone in his firm grip and his tattooed skin glistening under the stage lights.

"Yeah, we thought you might like that," Castiel laughed. "But let me tell you something about this song."

The stage was just about as tall as Dean, so he heard it when Castiel walked closer to him. Like he'd done before, he stood with his feet on either side of Dean's head. Dean could practically smell the sweat and adrenaline from the singer and it was admittedly intoxicating. He clenched his jaw as he tried to focus on the rabid fans in front of him.

"This song," Castiel continued, "is one of those songs you sing when you don't know what else to do, when you don't know what else to say to that one person you've given _everything_ to who just won't give anything back." The crowd cheered in sympathy. "You all know what I'm talking about!" More cheers erupted. "But let me tell you something else... there's no weakness in forgiveness."

At that, Dean heard Castiel's footsteps run back towards the band as the guitar sounded off the song. Castiel spoke the first two lines into the microphone.

_No matter how hard you fucking try,_

_These shots, they're never gonna take me..._  
  
_No matter how hard you try,_

_These shots,_

_Oh, they'll never gonna take me..._

_Even in the hardest of times,_

_We find love,_

_We find love._

_I thought when I fell,_

_People would understand me,_

_People would understand me..._

Dean thought about everything Castiel had been through, how he had to hide his sexuality,  _a piece of his identity_ , from his parents and how he desperately hoped they would understand him. No, John didn't understand, but Sam and Bobby did. Dean had people who did understand. Castiel didn't... he didn't have anyone.

_It was in your eyes,_

_I will be just fine._

_Lost all, that's my life._

_I will be just fine._

_There's no weakness in forgiveness._

Dean heard the footsteps approach him again and he tensed. Castiel aggressively yelled the next verse.

_If I tried to take everything in this world that reminded me of you,_

_It would be so empty that fucking God himself would have to start again,_

_And his eyes would roll back in his head, and he'd pretend it never happened._

Castiel's stomped his right foot down right by Dean's ear as he continued to sing.  
  
_No point in pretending_

_You don't feel the same pain,_

_You don't see the same things_

_That ripped you inside, oh..._

Castiel ran to one side of the stage away from Dean.

_Keep that pace, boy._

_This is the only way_

_Your mind's gonna stay blind._

_Go ahead and keep your pace,_

_Let your little heart race._

The crowd was already singing along to the chorus, and the Seraphs gained even more enthusiasm and vigor as Castiel sang it twice and confetti rained down.

_It was in your eyes,_

_I will be just fine._

_Lost all, that's my life._

_I will be just fine._

_There's no weakness in forgiveness._

"We love you guys! Goodnight!" Castiel yelled and the stage went black.

 

. . .

 

Back at the Four Seasons, the Seraphs were all still riding the high from the concert and decided to go out clubbing since it they were going to have an extra day in the city.

Dean was going to stay in bodyguard mode and protect them, but Benny told him that he and the other guys could watch over them. Dean was thankful. It meant he had the entire suite all to himself, and he could get some peace and quiet to allow his eardrums to recuperate from the assault they'd just been through. So, he kicked back on his bed and decided to rest for a while.

The thick, full chords of a piano woke Dean suddenly. He hadn't realized he dozed off. He glanced over at the digital clock on his nightstand. 2:30AM the red numbers said. Dean rubbed his face in confusion. He figured the guys wouldn't be back until later. They'd only been out for an hour and some change. Once the sleepy fog lifted from Dean's mind, he realized that only one of the Seraphs knew how to play piano, so of course he couldn't stop himself from wandering out into the main room of the dark suite.

No lights were on, so Dean quietly felt his way down the corridor that spilled out into the living space. Upon reaching the corner, he froze as he came to find that Castiel was alone, his shirtless form hunched over the piano as he made the instrument ring out deep, rich notes. Dean drew in a sharp breath when Castiel started to sing brokenly.

_I blame God for the loss of the only man I've loved,_

_I blame God for the loss of the only man I've loved,_

_I blame God for the loss of the only man I've loved..._

Dean involuntarily reached down into his front right pocket and clasped the silver band tightly within his fist.

_Let the shadow take all you're worth,_

_Let the shadow take more than words,_

_Let shadow fill you with doubt this time._

_Let you know,_

_Let you know,_

_You can..._

Castiel's posture straightened and he played the big chords hard with passion.

_Resist, rebel,_

_Feed the flames of a lonely fire, lonely fire._

_Resist the urge to follow the one with the holy power._

_And if he's the one, scream it out loud._

_And if he's the one, I'll follow your lead,_

_Your lead._

In that moment, Dean was so proud of Castiel. Hell, he was always proud of him, but it was something else to stand there and watch this man play, to know that his playing and talent got him where he was today despite having nothing, despite being  _homeless_ for a while in the cold, lonely streets of Joplin, Missouri. Castiel resisted his parents' homophobic views and heteronormative agenda. Castiel rebelled and ran away. He was supposed to run away with Dean...

Castiel's voice quieted a bit and his posture wavered a bit. Dean could tell the man was crying, and that damn near broke his heart. He resisted the urge to go over to the singer and comfort him somehow. To keep himself planted, he grasped the wall for support.

_I can't forget the things he taught me._

_Oh, I won't forget the things he taught me..._

A beat or two went by before Castiel picked up the chorus with renewed passion, even more so than the first time, and it honestly made Dean smile to see the man so in his element. He watched how the muscles in Castiel's back danced beneath the black ink feathers.

_Resist, rebel,_

_Feed the flames of a lonely fire, lonely fire, only fire._

_Resist the urge to follow the one with the holy power, holy power, holy power._

_And if he's the one, scream out his name._

_Oh, and if he's the one, scream out... his..._

_Deeeeeeaaaaaan!_

Castiel's voice echoed throughout the suite. Dean couldn't breathe...

It was silent for a long moment until Castiel crumpled in on himself and rested his upper body on the piano, which caused all sorts of random notes to ring out from the instrument. Dean broke from his trance. He lifted his hand to his cheek and found it to be wet with tears. He heard sobs tear themselves out of Castiel's body, and he couldn't take it anymore.

Dean involuntarily padded his way across the hardwood floor over to the piano. He stood behind Castiel, who didn't hear him approach and whose skin was stained with ink and bathed in the pale blue moonlight. Tentatively, he reached out his hand and placed it on the singer's bare shoulder.

Castiel jumped at the contact and quickly swiveled around on the piano bench. He lifted his teary face to Dean's with a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, pain, and relief all at once. All Dean could do was offer him a small, soft smile as another tear fell from his eye that he hoped to God was hidden by the dark. Silently, he then moved his hand from Castiel's shoulder to his hair. He lightly carded through the soft strands and tucked a few pieces behind the singer's stretched ear.

Neither of them spoke. What could they even say? Despite being at a loss for words, Castiel's subtle lean into Dean's palm was enough; it communicated far more than either of them could even begin to explain. In that moment, just like before, nothing else existed. No one else existed. It was just them, and it was the best feeling in the entire world, Dean was sure of it. He dropped his hand down to Castiel's cheek and began to stroke away the tears with his thumb.

Too soon, Castiel broke the silence and consequently broke the bodyguard from his trance.

"Dean... why-"

Dean knew where this was heading. He immediately dropped his hand from Castiel's face and walked towards the wall-to-wall window so his back was facing the man. Dean knew Castiel was going to ask about what happened two weeks ago, about how they slept together and how he ignored him. Knowing that just reminded Dean of how much he didn't deserve Castiel after what he did all those years ago and of just how wrong this all was considering the fact that he was in a relationship. It wasn't fair to Castiel, so Dean knew the only way to reestablish the distance between them was to push the Seraph away no matter how much it hurt.

"Don't even bother asking, Cas." He rubbed his palm over his face and lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he heard Castiel lift himself from the piano bench.

"You didn't even know what I was going to-"

"Yeah, I did," Dean chuckled bitterly before turning to his ex-lover. "I knew exactly what you were going to ask, and I'm not gonna answer you, alright? Let's just drop it. It doesn't matter anyway."

Castiel looked as though he'd been slapped, but that hurt quickly turned to anger. "No," he growled. "Don't you fucking  _dare_ say that it doesn't matter, Dean. You don't get to do that."

"Well, I just did." Dean smiled when he said that just to lay on the whole "asshole" thing thickly.

Castiel sighed heavily. "God, you're such an asshole, you know that?"

 _Bingo_ , Dean thought to himself before Castiel continued.

"I deserve an answer after what happened a couple weeks ago."

Dean turned back around to face the window. There was no way in hell they were going to talk about that. Dean damned his heart for making him walk over to Castiel in the first place. If he was smart, he would've just walked back into his room and pretended like he never heard Castiel sing that song.

"In fact," Castiel said with an angry tone, "I deserve an answer as to why you left me on that goddamned bus bench in Kansas seven years ago!"

Dean felt like he'd been stabbed in the heart with an ice pick. It seemed like he stood there for minutes, hours, days before he realized that the only way out of this was the flee, so that's what he tried to do. He quickly spun around and walked past Castiel en route to the sanctuary of his room. He was about to round the corner to his hallway when Castiel yelled.

"Where the hell do you think you are going?!"

Dean quickened his pace a bit when he registered that Castiel was hot on his heels. Before he reached his door, Castiel's hell tattooed hand clamped down hard on his shoulder and shoved him up against the wall, which caused the paintings to rattle against it and all the air to exit Dean's lungs in a  _woosh_.

"Let go of me!" Dean said as he struggled to break free.

"I will once you answer me!" Castiel hissed.

Dean mustered up all of his strength to shove Castiel away from him. It worked and sent the singer flying back towards the hallway's other wall. He heard some sort of glass figurine crash to the floor. However, that didn't stop Castiel from kicking the door back open before Dean had the chance to fully close it. The singer slammed it behind him once he was inside. Dean was trapped.

"Cas, buddy, calm down," Dean urged with his hands.

"Buddy?" Castiel laughed almost maniacally. "We're a bit more than buddies, don't you think?"

"I-I have a girlfriend..."

"Ah, yes, Lisa." Castiel stepped further into Dean's space. "Tell me, Dean. Does Lisa know about what happened?" He kept walking until Dean backed himself up against the wall. He got closer until he could whisper in Dean's ear. "Does she know how you fucked me two weeks ago?" He nipped Dean's lobe. "Does she know how you came inside of me?"

Again, Dean shoved Castiel away from him and tried to ignore the feeling of his smooth topless skin underneath his palms. "Get out," he growled.

"I don't think I will," Castiel said with a wicked grin. "I mean, I'm technically your boss. You should show me some respect."

Dean dropped his eyes to the floor. The man was right. Sure, Pamela was his superior, but above her was the Seraphs themselves, and Castiel, the bastard, was the head of  _them_. If Dean didn't feel trapped before, he certainly did then. He needed the money from this job, and it was honestly the best job he'd ever had, even though his heart felt like it'd been dragged over a cheese grater a-thousand-and-one times. If Castiel wanted to do this, he guessed he had no other choice. He couldn't run anymore.

"So," Castiel continued and sat down on the foot of Dean's bed. He stared the green-eyed man directly in the face, a challenge in his expression. "Let's talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic music plays*
> 
> How do you think "the talk" is going to go?
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. It took me so long to write it partially because I had such a hard time deciding which Jonny Craig/Emarosa song I wanted to use in this scene, but mostly because I'm a shitty writer who takes a million years to update. I needed to take a break from the craziness of applying to grad school programs and other senior stuff, so I cranked this out.
> 
> Also, I highly recommend listening to the second song in this chapter. Jonny Craig's voice is so raw in the recording and it truly captures the images of solitude, strength, yet vulnerability that I was aiming for. Whatcha think?
> 
> "Live It. Love It. Lust It." - Emarosa  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrqvZF8Hr08
> 
> "Resist, Rebel" - Jonny Craig  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ms78EzkA0k4
> 
> The next chapter will start right where this one ends, just fyi.
> 
> Love y'all!
> 
> *AGGRESSIVELY CHANTS "SHOW ME THE COMMENTS! SHOW ME THE COMMENTS!"*


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